


some fools rush in, some fools just wait

by someitems



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Colleagues to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:23:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 68,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22826065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someitems/pseuds/someitems
Summary: "'Of course I like you,' Ghislain says. He looks over with a smile. The air around Akira is faintly golden, as if he’s glowing, too. Akira’s expression is hazy and warm, that gentle smile turning up the corners of his mouth, and his dark eyes glint behind his glasses. Ghislain looks straight into them and feels his own face soften. 'How could anyone not?'"
Relationships: Ghislain Briand/Akira Kikuchi
Comments: 70
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has been a massively long time coming - I first had the idea in late 2018 - and I'm thrilled to finally be able to share it with you all. Inspired by the Ghislain-Akira interactions at the 2018 Olympics, this ship took over my heart and brain and produced this fic.
> 
> The fic is complete except for some edits remaining on the final chapters. Unless something changes, I'll be posting Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. It will remain locked the entire time, since neither Ghislain nor Akira are all that famous.
> 
> Thanks to everyone on Twitter for listening to me talk about this ship and fic, and most especially to aromanticjungkook, who was there almost from the beginning. And as always, a million thanks to sophiahelix, the best beta a girl could ask for. You make my work better every single time.

Ghislain is three minutes late for a meeting of Team Cricket at the Iceberg Skating Palace, a preliminary huddle before the team event. He zips up his blue parka and shoulders his backpack. He’s still jet-lagged, and the Olympic Village in Sochi is like a confusing maze to him, but even this isn’t enough to suppress his excitement. This is really shaping up to be his year, he thinks as he hustles down the sidewalk. He hasn’t had a year this exciting in a long time. 

First, adding Yuzu to his roster of students, after admiring his jump technique from afar for the past year and a half. Brian had asked Ghislain to look after Yuzu while Brian was at a Grand Prix event, and they’d hit it off so well that Ghislain had asked if he could have some time with Yuzu once a week. It’s rare for Ghislain to work with students who love jumps for their beauty as well as their scoring potential, but Yuzu seems to love the jumps the way Ghislain does, as art in their own right. Ghislain can’t wait to work with him more. 

And now, the Olympics. Ghislain always dreamed of being here as a kid, skating for Canada, and even though his own career never reached those heights, it’s still a thrill to be part of it. He gawks at the buildings, the chattering crowds of athletes in their colorful coats. If he has any time, he wants to go watch the curling, and the speed skating, and buy souvenirs for his nephews and nieces. He should send them postcards too, probably, really fulfill his role as the fun gay uncle. But he’s at least five minutes late now, he realizes, and picks up the pace. 

Brian and Tracy are already there when he arrives, as well as a host of people he doesn’t recognize. Most are dressed up, in the suit jackets of Team Japan or Team Spain, except for an older man in a tracksuit and sneakers.

“Hello,” Ghislain says as he approaches, and he hears a chorus of _hello_ in return, heads bobbing in his direction.

“Hey,” Brian says, glancing up from a folder of notes. “We’re just about to get started.”

“Who’s everybody else?” Ghislain asks. “I didn’t know we had so many people on the team.”

Brian laughs. “Most of them are Yuzu’s.” He waves an arm, pointing out various people. “Over there are Javi’s manager and the figure skating coordinator for Team Spain, and then we have the representative from the JSF, Yuzu’s manager, Yuzu’s nutritionist, Yuzu’s acupuncturist, and—“ He trails off, turning to the man in the tracksuit. “How would you describe yourself?”

The man gives a mischievous grin. “Hmm. Like—butler who give massage.” He laughs at his own joke.

“That sounds nice,” Ghislain says. “Wish I was an Olympic athlete so I could have me one of those.” 

Brian snorts.

“Officially, physical therapist,” Yuzu’s massage butler says. “But I also look after bags, keep him distracting, thing like that.”

“Well, it’s nice to have you on the team,” Ghislain says, putting out a hand. “I’m Ghislain Briand, I’m the jump coach.”

“Oh, I hear about you,” the man says. “Yuzu like you. I'm Kikuchi Akira. Um, I guess, Akira Kikuchi in English. I get confused.”

Ghislain is flattered. “Nice to meet you, Akira.”

Brian clears his throat. “Let’s get started.” They go over the schedule, taking notes on practice times, future team meetings, and rare moments when they’ll have breaks.

“Now, the most important thing is to help keep the Olympics from becoming a burden on the athletes,” Brian says. “Don’t let them spend too much time without a break, make sure they understand they can say no to media, give them as much encouragement as you can. This is supposed to be fun for them, and a chance for them to show off their skills and meet their goals. And it’s our job to make sure that happens.”

The assembled group nods solemnly. Ghislain has to smile. Brian’s chest is puffed up, unconsciously, his nervous pride in leading Olympic athletes on full display. It reminds him of when they were teens, Brian betting Ghislain that he could do some crazy jump combo in warmups. Ghislain never took the bets—Brian always does whatever he sets his mind to, no matter how terrifying. Ghislain would rather save his neck than show off, anyway.

“Okay, that’s all for today,” Brian says. “Let’s have fun out there.” He beams. “Gracias. Arigato.”

The group laughs, beginning to break up. Ghislain stretches his arms above his head and yawns. He could fall asleep right now, but it’s only 5 pm Sochi time and he needs to stay awake to beat this jetlag. He supposes he’ll go walk around some more, see the village. Find a place to eat dinner that isn’t McDonald’s. Some of the federations with Cricket athletes are meeting tonight, but he doesn’t think he’ll need to join those meetings. He yawns again, so big he hears his jaw pop.

“Are you okay?” Akira asks. Ghislain jumps. He didn’t know anyone else was still there.

“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Ghislain says. “Just jetlagged, you know how it is.”

“I don’t,” Akira says. “Can I tell you secret?” He lowers his voice. “This is my first time leave Japan.”

“Wow. Really?” Ghislain considers. “I guess you must take care of Yuzu when he goes back to Japan.”

Akira nods. “Usually I just helping him when he is home. But he want me here for Olympics. Is a lot, but—“ He shrugs his shoulders. “Yuzu ask, I can’t say no.”

“I hear that a lot.” Ghislain smiles.

“But now, I have too much time. We meet at seven for Team Japan but I don’t know what to do now.”

Ghislain is struck by a sudden sympathetic impulse. “You should come with me. I was going to walk around and find someplace to eat dinner.”

Akira considers. “Okay. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course not. It’ll help me stay awake to have some company.”

They walk through the bustling Olympic village, passing athletes and volunteers in their brightly-colored jackets. It’s not quite the same as Ghislain pictured it—he’d been imagining it like an actual village, with tiny houses and yards, not these rows of hotels, but he realizes now that was silly. Still, it’s impressive all the same, all these people here for a single purpose.

“Wonder where we can get some dinner,” Ghislain says. “All I know about is McDonald’s and the cafeteria.”

“They have cook in Japan house,” Akira says. “He is good. I get us in.”

“Sure, why not,” Ghislain says. Akira leads them down one of the paths and into a building with the Japanese flag out front. Inside, there’s a long hallway of well-labeled rooms. Ghislain can hear laughter and chatter.

They enter a room with rows of tables covered in white tablecloths. Akira says something to a man at the front of the room and they’re directed to a buffet. The food’s all labeled, but Ghislain can’t read it, so he picks by smell: rice, vegetables, and some kind of meat with a fragrant sauce.

Akira and Ghislain settle themselves at one of the tables and dig in. The food is piping hot, and just as tasty as Akira promised. Ghislain wasn’t expecting much—mass cooking for athletes on a budget is bound to be rudimentary—but this is satisfying, and flavorful too. 

“You weren’t lying, this is great,” Ghislain says, stuffing some rice into his mouth.

“They have nice thing here,” Akira says. “Japan like to take care their athletes.”

“That’s nice.” Ghislain chews some more. “Do you work with a lot of athletes?” he asks, eventually.

“Some. Mostly I have—I don’t know how to say. Place to treat people for injuries.”

“A clinic?”

“Clinic,” Akira repeats. “In Sendai.”

“Oh, so you’re from the same town as Yuzu.”

“Yeah, I am treating Yuzu since he was…hmm. 8? 9?”

“Oh, wow.” Ghislain hasn’t worked with anyone for longer than a few years. He tries to imagine watching a student of his grow up, and fails. It must be like parenthood, another thing he has a hard time picturing. “That’s a while.”

“First day I meet Yuzu, he was on his father’s back,” Akira says, half-laughing. “He sprain his ankle so badly he can’t walk, so his father carry him to my office and drop him on my table.”

Ghislain laughs. “So he’s always been like that, huh?”

“Always.” Akira shakes his head. “He is better, now, as adult. He listens more. Well, little bit more. Not much.”

“He’s got his own ideas for everything, that’s for sure. But I guess you need to be stubborn to do what he does. ”

Akira nods, thumping his chest. “He is strong in here.” He whispers again, back to the conspiratorial tone that’s starting to amuse Ghislain. It reminds him of being a kid, telling secrets to his friends on the school bus. “I think he’s going to win.”

“Me too,” Ghislain says. “I know everybody’s talking about Patrick, but Yuzu’s skating skills aren’t that far behind, and Yuzu’s quads are more reliable. I should know.”

“How you becoming a coach just for jumps?” Akira asks. “I never knew you could have jump coach before Yuzu tell me.”

“I used to skate myself, for a little while,” Ghislain explains. “Brian and I competed for Canada when we were younger. But I was never really good enough to make it that far." Ghislain chuckles, playing this off as a joke, but Akira looks at him seriously, like he's about to offer sympathy. Ghislain quickly continues. "I did some other stuff for a while after I stopped competing, but I still loved the sport, and I loved teaching, so I went and got my certification and started coaching. And it turned out I was pretty good at helping people jump, so that’s what I mostly focused on.”

Akira nods. “Oh, I remember—I also have questions for you.”

“What kind of questions?”

Akira digs in his bag for a folder. “How you direct body to move during jump. I want to know more about what parts feel impact, which part of leg they use the most. To help treatment.”

“I’m not a doctor, so I don’t know all the names of these things,” Ghislain says. “But I’ll do my best.”

Akira opens a notebook to a fresh page and the two of them start talking shop, questions and gestures and words spoken hastily over each other. It’s fascinating and informative, despite the language barrier. Ghislain learns the names of the tendons in the ankle and the little bones in the foot, demonstrates with his hands and arms how he helps students keep their jumps from going off-axis. An hour passes like ten minutes. Eventually, Ghislain tears himself away and glances at his watch.

“Oh shoot, I think your meeting is starting soon.”

Akira looks up, startled. “Oh, we are talking for so long. Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize.” Ghislain waves a hand. “This was so interesting. We should do it again sometime.” He grins at Akira, who grins back, the concentration of a few minutes ago melting from his face.

“Yes, we talking more later.” Akira stands up. “See you.”

It’s eight-thirty by the time Ghislain gets back to his room, and he’s less tired than he was when he left it. He must have gotten his second wind while he was conversing with Akira. He watches a little bit of the Olympics on Russian TV—bobsled and snowboarding—and is in bed at a respectable nine-thirty. He feels contented and purposeful, the warm glow of the earlier conversation still lighting his evening. He turns out the light and sleeps like a log, dreaming of examining ankle ligaments.

****

What Ghislain didn’t know about the Olympics is it feels larger than life, more real than reality. The spectacle draws you in, heightening your every emotion and making you feel like an actor on the world’s biggest stage. Little things keep making Ghislain want to pinch himself: his official badge that gets him into the rink, the five rings everywhere he looks, the hordes of media at every practice. Whenever he gets a chance, he pauses for a moment, breathing everything in.

But too many things keep him busy the next few days, leaving him no time to stand and stare. He watches practices, taking notes that he passes along to the skaters. He huddles around the monitor in the press room while Yuzu skates a clean, sharp short in the team event. He keeps an eye on stacks of suitcases and mountains of Poohs while Akira does cool-down exercises with Yuzu. He’s glued to the TV backstage as Yuzu breaks the world record in the short program and Javi skates strong immediately afterward, clapping and cheering for Team Cricket even though they can’t hear him.

On the morning of the free skate, Ghislain wakes up at five a.m. and can’t get back to sleep. He gets out of bed after an hour of tossing and turning and decides he might as well get the day started. The free skate isn’t until the evening, and he’ll probably be exhausted by then, but there’s no point in forcing it.

At six-thirty a.m., the lobby of the Team Canada building is quiet and still. Breakfast doesn’t open for another hour. Ghislain has managed to avoid the McDonald’s thus far, but it seems like his best bet if he wants a cup of coffee at this hour. He strolls leisurely out into the plaza. The cold air hits his face like a slap, bracing and fresh.

There aren’t many people walking around the Olympic village, either. He nods at a few volunteers, bustling past in their multicolored coats. When he pushes open the door to the McDonald’s, warmth comes rushing up to meet him. The bored-looking guy at the register turns his head slightly as Ghislain approaches and orders a coffee with cream and sugar. There’s only one other person in the restaurant, a grey-haired man with a profile that seems oddly familiar. The man turns to look, too, and that’s when Ghislain realizes: it’s Akira.

“What are you doing here?” Ghislain asks.

“I wake up too early,” Akira says. “Come here for tea, but they don’t sell any, so I have coffee instead, but—“ He grimaces. 

“I know, it’s not good,” Ghislain says. “But beggars can’t be choosers, huh?”

Akira blinks.

Ghislain rephrases. “Sometimes you only have so many options.”

“Yeah,” Akira says. “You waking up early too? Or just fan of bad coffee?” He chuckles.

Ghislain can’t help smiling. “Yeah, I was up at five. I just can’t get back to sleep easily if I wake up like that anymore. At least it wasn’t two this time.”

“Aah, it happens to me too much,” Akira says. “I’m waking up at two, three, and I’m seeing emails from Yuzu, because is normal time in Canada. Then I answering until I fall asleep again.”

Ghislain shakes his head. “It’s the worst.”

“Today, I’m just nervous,” Akira says. “I can’t stop think about free.”

“Me too,” Ghislain says. “I really hope Yuzu can pull off the win. ” 

Akira flashes a sly smile. “Tell me, do you enjoy work with Yuzu?”

“I haven’t worked with him for very long,” Ghislain says. He’s not sure what the right answer is here.

Akira laughs. “I am not try to judge, I just—wonder. I know him for so long, since he was small, he is like family to me. So I don’t know how it is to start now.”

“He’s the best student I’ve ever had,” Ghislain admits. “Don’t tell him that, I don’t want it to go to his head.”

“He knows already,” Akira says. 

“He’s a pain when he doesn’t want to do something. But when he does—it’s like that’s the only thing that matters to him, it’s incredible. And he’s a sweet kid, even though he’s been through so much. I can’t even imagine.”

Akira’s face gets very serious, briefly, a shadow passing over it. Ghislain worries that he’s said something insensitive—some of the things Yuzu went through are things Akira went through as well, he realizes.

It passes, though. “I know,” Akira says. “He is so strong but—so young. I always worrying about him, when I am in Japan.” He chuckles a little. “Yuzu ask me to come here as favor to him, but he is actually doing favor for me. If I was just watching on TV in Japan, I would be too much stress.”

“I understand,” Ghislain says.

“Too much worry today for Yuzu won’t help,” Akira says. “I come here to relax, so I don’t give Yuzu my stress.”

“You’re right,” Ghislain says. “We have to be calm.” He takes a long, slow sip of coffee, forcing himself to savor it in silence.

Akira seems to have the same idea. The two of them sit at the table, staring into the distance. The silence could be awkward, but isn’t—Akira’s stillness feels as much like company as his conversation. The coffee warms Ghislain from the inside, suffusing him with a temporary peace.

Later that day, when he’s hovering near a television backstage at the ice rink, it’s that moment Ghislain pictures. The chipped black surface of the table, his own hands clutching the warm cup of coffee, the low hum of the kitchen in the background. Akira’s steady profile, across the table from him. Ghislain breathes in, breathes out, tries to calm his pounding heart as the final group of men take the ice for their six-minute warmup.

It’s a harder day than yesterday. Javi and Yuzu both falter, their programs marred by mistakes. They push through, but their faces in the kiss and cry show fear and resignation. Ghislain wishes he could be there too, next to Brian as he attempts to comfort and reassure them. Javi falls off the podium, from third to fourth. But Yuzu—somehow, some way, what Yuzu did is enough. Ghislain finds himself, along with a crowd of volunteers and journalists, staring wide-eyed at a list of names on the TV that has Yuzu’s at the very top. He bursts into a grin. Olympic gold medalist, Yuzuru Hanyu.

When Yuzu comes backstage, sweaty and joyous, Ghislain’s heart swells. He gives Yuzu a huge bear hug, only letting go when Yuzu starts squirming.

“I’m very proud of you,” Ghislain tells him.

Yuzu grimaces a little. He must be thinking about his mistake on the quad sal.

“Yes, even with the errors.” Ghislain pats Yuzu on the back. “You fought hard, and you didn’t let it get to you. And you still showed a great performance.”

“Thank you,” Yuzu says. He still sounds a bit rueful, but the grin on his face shines through. 

The whole team from the Cricket Club goes to the medal ceremony, huddling together in the cold of the outdoor pavilion. When the announcer calls Yuzu’s name and he hops onto the top step of the podium, they all scream like fans, whooping and hollering as the gold medal is placed around Yuzu’s neck.

Ghislain catches Akira’s eye. “We were right,” he tells Akira.

“Of course,” Akira says. “Never doubting Yuzu. Is bad idea.” He grins, big and warm. The crowd around them roars again as the medalists smile and wave. The Olympics are magical, Ghislain thinks suddenly. When you succeed here, the joy is like nothing else. He waves back, as if Yuzu could see them.

Ghislain had arranged to leave before the closing ceremony, ostensibly to help get things back in order at the club, but really because he thought it would be boring. Who wants to march in a circle for hours, smiling and waving? So he’d gotten an earlier plane ticket. But now, he regrets it a little. Yuzu is staying, and then going back to Japan until Worlds, so Ghislain won’t see him for another month. And Akira is staying with him. “I’ll march with Yuzu,” Akira says, looking genuinely excited at the prospect. Ghislain has a brief, pleasant vision of marching alongside Yuzu and Akira, passing the time by working out a plan for better quad sals. He lets it pass. There’s nothing he can do about it now.

“So,” Akira says, as Ghislain prepares to say his goodbyes to the team. Ghislain has a sudden forceful memory of a summer training camp he did in high school, making hopeful promises to keep in touch but knowing deep down he’d never hear from these people ever again. The Olympics is so different from his ordinary life, and it feels almost impossible that he could have genuinely started a friendship here.

“I will hear from you, yes?” Akira says. “About legs?”

Ghislain snorts, his heart flooding with relief. “Yes, of course. We’ll be in touch. It’ll help Yuzu that way.” He claps Akira awkwardly on the back. “Take care.”

“You too,” Akira says. His smile is warm and a little smug, like a cat in the sun.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the 2014-2015 season, Ghislain and Akira build a friendship, one text message about Yuzu's injuries at a time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: this chapter contains brief descriptions of Yuzu's injury at Cup of China 2014, including a brief mention of blood.

True to his word, Akira keeps in touch. Ghislain does a jump workshop for junior skaters instead of going with the team to Worlds, but he gets a full report on it from Akira, including Yuzu’s condition. The messages arrive in the middle of the night, bedecked with exclamation marks and emojis. It’s not what Ghislain expected—it’s the way the students text him, not how he texts with Brian—but it’s fun all the same. When he’s suddenly, inexplicably awake at 3 am, or blearily stumbling out of bed to use the bathroom, there’s an update waiting for him. _Yuzu defeats the sal!!!!_ or _Legs are good ;-)_. Ghislain feels like he’s struggling to keep up with Akira’s energy, not always sure how to reply to his messages, but he does his best to always say something. He likes picturing Akira on the other side of the world, waking up in the middle of the night and seeing a message on his phone. 

Summer at the club is busy as usual, training camps and choreography sessions and adult classes. Before Ghislain knows it, it’s almost over. The relaxed energy of the offseason dissipates, replaced by a fog of tension and fervor. Everyone has different goals, but they all boil down to one thing: the need to do their best.

It’s a need that emanates from Yuzu in waves. He stayed home from Finlandia Trophy to heal a stiff back, but after the mandated week of rest he’s back on the ice and working as hard as ever. After the Olympics last season, he’s worried about his quad sal, and he talks to Ghislain about it every day. He _pesters_ Ghislain, really, with that insistent drive that cuts through uncertain English and makes his point known. Ghislain is convinced that even if Yuzu couldn’t speak any English at all, he’d still find a way to get what he wants.

“I’m worrying about—“ Yuzu starts, gliding up to Ghislain during one session.

Ghislain wags his finger. “You don’t need to worry about your jumps. You know how to do them.”

Yuzu doesn’t roll his eyes, but his body language makes it clear how hard he’s restraining himself. “I’m _thinking_ about, is timing bad? Maybe I’m—“ He squeezes in his shoulders, imitating a jump rotation. “Too early?”

Ghislain tries not to laugh at Yuzu’s rephrasing. _Laughing just encourages them,_ his sister used to say when his nephews were toddlers getting up to ridiculous mischief, and he feels like the same thing applies here. “I think you know when to start your rotation—but sometimes you got a little too much speed, and you panic, and you start to loosen up. So if you go too fast, don’t panic, just stay tight.”

Yuzu nods. “No panic, stay tight,” he mutters to himself. “No panic, stay tight,” and then something else in Japanese. He circles the rink like a lion stalking an antelope, winding up for a jump. He’s getting too fast on purpose, Ghislain realizes as Yuzu flies by. He finally lines up and does the footwork into his quad sal. It’s impossibly high, but Yuzu stays tight as he rotates. He lands it tilted, leg wobbling and arms flailing as he tries to stay on one foot. As soon as he straightens up, he makes the twirling motion with one finger next to his temple that he does when he wants to affix something in his memory. Then he starts his loping circles around the rink again.

“You don’t have to practice messing up,” Ghislain says, when Yuzu comes by him. “If you try to keep your speed normal, you won’t have to deal with this.”

Yuzu does a snowplow stop, coming to a dramatic halt. Ghislain can see thoughts in his eyes, ideas struggling to make themselves known. “I’m not practice to mess up. I’m practice jump in all condition. So I can give best performance, no matter what.”

“Okay,” Ghislain says. Yuzu’s face is set in a way that precludes argument. “Just be careful.”

“Yes,” Yuzu says, in a way Ghislain has learned means “whatever.” He goes back to building up speed.

Ghislain leans against a pole, shaking his head. He should have known better than to try. Yuzu practices the way he performs—passionate, driven, with a clear goal in mind. He accepts no compromises on his road to perfection. Ghislain loves his work, but he’s never been as committed to anything as Yuzu is to almost everything. It seems exhausting.

By the end of the week, Yuzu has gotten better at jumping quad sals when he’s going too fast, and Ghislain has gotten better at holding his tongue about it. Yuzu moves on to run-throughs and other drills, preparing himself for the Cup of China in a week and a half.

Ghislain’s not going, and he’s happy about it, honestly. This autumn has been a whirlwind, like every autumn in figure skating, and he’s worried he might get sick if he doesn’t rest. Brian is already pulled to pieces, taking naps in his office at odd hours and on the phone with federations about flights and hotels. 

But when Ghislain checks his phone at the end of a long, busy day, he has a message from Akira: _coming to China?!?_

Ghislain feels a single, brief pang of regret. It would have been nice to see Akira again. _no. maybe gpf_

Akira’s reply comes when Ghislain is back in his condo. _rooting for it!_

Ghislain chuckles. It’s kind of flattering, that Akira enjoyed hanging out at the Olympics so much he wants to do it again. Ghislain hasn’t made any truly new friends in a while—he mostly hangs out with Brian and the other Cricket people, and his friends outside the club are acquaintances from years ago, when he first moved to Toronto. He’d forgotten how fun it could be, getting to know someone new. 

Ghislain putters around the condo, putting some leftovers in the microwave and running the dishwasher. He imagines the next couple days, waking up to jump reports from Akira, living the competition vicariously through him. It puts a smile on his face.

But a much different series of messages jolts Ghislain awake in the early hours of the morning a few days later. The first three he sees alarm him so much he doesn’t look at the others.

_he got second somehow, miracle_

_i do my best to take good care of him :( _

_ in ambulance now……will tell more news later……hope you are sleeping_

Ghislain’s heart races. He opens Google and types with shaking fingers _yuzuru hanyu cup of china_. The first thing he sees is a picture of Yuzu lifting himself from the ice, a trickle of blood running down his chin. He clicks on an article, forcing himself to absorb words like _collision_ and _concussion testing._ As far as he can tell, Yuzu was injured in warmups when he collided with another skater, and while no one knows the extent of his injuries yet, it seems that he escaped without a concussion, at least.

Ghislain can’t help it. He clicks on the embedded videos, possessed by a sick curiosity. He sees the collision, the long minutes Yuzu is laying on the ice, the medical team scrambling pathetically after him. He watches Yuzu’s performance, fueled by grit and the fumes of adrenaline. Yuzu falls on almost every jump, but he manages to rotate them. Ghislain lets out a bitter chuckle—all that practice on jumping in bad conditions seems to have paid off.

The look on Brian’s face is one that Ghislain has only seen a few times and had hoped to never see again. When the score comes up on the monitors, Yuzu starts sobbing uncontrollably. Akira appears in the edge of the frame, his face set, his mouth a wavering line. Ghislain closes the video, stomach churning. He’s seen more than enough.

After a while, he opens the texts from Akira again. He doesn’t know what to say in response, if he should try to comfort Akira or what information he should ask for. He’s never been all that good in hard situations, and he has no idea what Akira would want him to say. But he can’t ignore the texts, either. He stares at his phone for a long time. Eventually, he sends back:

_Thanks for telling me. Please keep me updated. _

It’s too terse, and not really right, but Ghislain can’t think of anything else. He tries to go back to sleep, but all he can see when he closes his eyes is the collision. Eventually he dozes off for a little while, and wakes feeling like his head weighs a thousand pounds. There’s another update on his phone from Akira:

_nothing is broken, just lots of contusions and strains_  
_his head scans were clean_  
_he’s resting in hospital now. they manage his pain. he will be okay_

Ghislain is relieved, but his heart is still heavy. He aches for Yuzu, and the pain he must be in; for Brian, managing the media and making hard decisions; for Yuzu’s mother, who must be ten times more worried than he is. For Akira, doing his best to take care of Yuzu. It’s the sort of thing you never want to happen to your students, and Ghislain can’t quite believe it really did. 

The rink is quieter than normal this morning, or maybe that’s just Ghislain’s imagination. Tracy looks flustered, her forehead lined with worry.

“Did you see what happened to Yuzu?” she asks, and Ghislain nods. “I watched the whole thing, I couldn’t help myself. But I wish I hadn’t.”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says. He doesn’t know what else to say.

Thankfully, Tracy doesn’t seem to mind. “When I talked to Brian he said I could close up early today if I wanted to. I imagine everyone’s pretty shaken up.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Ghislain says. “Is Brian okay?” He feels foolish for not checking in himself. 

Tracy grimaces. “You know Brian. Weight of the world on his shoulders as usual. He’s trying to be strong for everyone, but—“ She sighs. “It sounds like Yuzu’s going to be okay, though. So that’s a relief.”

“I know,” Ghislain says.

“Did you hear from Brian too?” Tracy asks curiously.

“No, from Yuzu’s trainer, Akira—Kikuchi. We talk sometimes.”

“Oh,” Tracy says, in a way that suggests she wants to ask questions, but won’t. More students are starting to come in, congregating by the bench to put their skates on. Tracy tilts her head in their direction. “I guess we better get things started.”

They skate over to greet the class. When everyone’s assembled, Tracy gives a little speech about Yuzu’s accident and urges the students that if they feel worried or scared, they can talk to one of the instructors. It amazes Ghislain, the way Tracy can step outside herself and think about what might be in the mind of a bunch of young teens. He goes a little easier during jump training, trying to do his part to look out for them too. 

They close the rink a little early. Ghislain takes the long way home, stopping for a hamburger and fries. It gets dark so quickly now that it’s pitch-black by the time he arrives back at his condo, like it’s the middle of the night instead of six pm. He falls asleep on the couch in front of the TV, and when he wakes he’s got a message from Akira: _we fly back to japan so yuzu can rest at home. he will be ok there_ It makes Ghislain smile, his heart suddenly lightened. His response is simple: _good :)_

Ghislain doesn’t ask for more updates, afraid to treat Akira like a news service, but Akira provides them anyway. Yuzu is resting at his parents’ house in Sendai, recovering slowly. He isn’t able to walk yet, the muscles in his legs still sore and battered, but he’s hoping to improve in time for NHK Trophy in two weeks. Ghislain has never thought about how short two weeks could be before. _he will skate NHK whether he’s better or not, right,_ Ghislain asks grimly, seeing the image of a stubborn, bandaged Yuzu skating with gritted teeth. Akira’s reply is a single word: _probably_. Akira is right, of course. 

After the NHK Trophy finishes, Brian finally comes back to Toronto. He looks worn out, like he’s been gone for years instead of just a few weeks. Ghislain’s heart aches, wishing he could shoulder some of Brian’s burdens for him. But he knows Brian won’t admit he needs any help, even if Ghislain pushes. He does the next best thing and invites Brian out for a beer after work.

At the bar, a dimly lit, quiet Irish pub near Cricket called the Four Shamrocks, they don’t talk about skating or competitions or Yuzu’s injury. Instead, they do what they’ve always done, since they were just teens rooming together at Skate Canada training camps: they pick a fight about hockey. Habs versus Leafs, Subban versus Kessel, whose hot start to the season is real and whose is a mirage. Neither of them really gives a shit—they’ve both been called names by too many hockey players to ever get that invested in the sport—but it’s what they do. It’s relaxing, to get mad about something unrelated to work.

“Leafs fans are always so deluded,” Ghislain says, and means _I missed you._ “Thinking this is the year to finally be good.”

Brian grins. “One of these years you’ll have to eat your words.” He takes a sip of his beer. A silence spreads between them, companionable and a little melancholy.

“By the way,” Ghislain says. “I’m sorry I didn’t—call you, or anything. I was worried it would be too much, when you were already dealing with so much. But I should have checked in…”

“It’s okay,” Brian waves a hand. “Akira told me he let you know what was up. And he said you weren’t really saying much in response, so he was a little worried.”

“He said that?” Ghislain is touched. He resolves to text Akira a little more often. 

“He was pretty concerned about it,” Brian says. “It was kind of sweet, honestly. It’s nice you guys are getting to know each other. It’ll make it easier the next time the full team is with Yuzu.”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says, feeling warm. “He’s a good guy.”

Brian drains the last of his beer. “I better take off, I’m beat. Plus Raj told me I had to be home in time for dinner. Thanks for this, though.”

Ghislain pats Brian’s shoulder. “Anytime.”

****  
It seems like no time at all before the Grand Prix Final. Cricket has a watch party for the men’s event, everyone piling into one of the lounges to cheer for Javi and Yuzu. After Yuzu’s struggles at NHK, Ghislain is happy that he pulls off two strong programs. His free skate is gleeful and sweeping, his jumps sharp and strong, and it does Ghislain’s heart good, seeing Yuzu almost back to normal. He sends a congratulatory text to Yuzu, and then one to Akira. Yuzu responds with a grinning emoji four hours later, which is the quickest Ghislain has ever received a message from him. Akira’s message, which comes shortly afterward, is a little more ominous: _hope things continue good_

_Why wouldn’t they?_ Ghislain wants to ask, but doesn’t. Instead, he types: _me too_.

This exchange comes rushing back into Ghislain’s mind when he learns, a few weeks later, that Yuzu will need abdominal surgery. That, in fact, Akira had already started to suspect something was wrong after the free skate at the Final. _he want to skate nationals before surgery, I said ok. hope I wasn’t wrong…_ Akira texts. Ghislain stares down at his phone blankly. He knows it’s irrational, but he can’t stop feeling like he jinxed Yuzu by celebrating his win.

Brian stays in Japan an extra few days after Nationals to keep an eye on things. Ghislain’s phone fills up with texts from Akira he can’t bear to answer. The surgery was successful, Yuzu will make a full recovery, but Ghislain still doesn’t know what to say, or what Akira might want from him. He aches to do something, but there’s nothing he can do, half a world away. Words don’t seem like they would help. So the messages go unanswered, and Ghislain feels worse and worse every time.

Akira doesn’t stop messaging him, though. Ghislain gets all the details: the disinfectant that made Yuzu break out into hives, the family members visiting, the ups and downs of the healing process. Tracy takes to asking “What’s new with Yuzu?” when Ghislain arrives at the club. He feels a little odd about it, telling the rest of the team but hardly ever responding to Akira. But he still doesn’t know what to say, so he stays silent. 

After a week and a half of this, a different kind of message appears on Ghislain’s screen one night: are you okay?

Ghislain waits a while before answering. Should he make an excuse for his silence? How honest should he be? Yuzu seems to be doing much better, and so does Akira. But the inertia of not answering kept the silence going, and it all feels too heavy for Ghislain to deal with. Eventually, he writes back: _sorry for not replying, was really busy. i appreciate the updates very much _

The response from Akira, which Ghislain sees the next day, makes him smile: _please be well_.

****

January brings freezing mornings that make the rink feel warm in comparison, and wet, insistent snow with none of its December charm. Ghislain’s shoes get caked with grey slush just from walking through the club parking lot. He’s focused on jump touch-ups for the skaters whose Nationals are in January, or who are attending Europeans. A couple of his students are competing at Nationals as juniors for the first time, and they're drilling like crazy, making Ghislain watch their triples over and over again. It feels like the same kind of slog as walking through the snow, keeping his head down and moving forward.

Yuzu is still in Japan. According to Brian, he’ll be staying in Japan until Worlds, training on his own using plans Brian is emailing him.

“You’re really letting him do that?” Ghislain asks, when he first hears about it.

“I trust him,” Brian says. Ghislain’s skepticism must show in his face, because Brian amends his answer. “Well. I trust him to follow my plan and be in touch. He’s sending me all his notes—you know how many notes he takes. And he does have people looking out for him over there. He’ll be fine.”

Ghislain grimaces. “As long as he keeps us up to date, that doesn’t sound so bad.” After practice, he sends Yuzu an email, wishing him good luck with his training and letting him know he can always ask jump questions over email, too.

The next day, Ghislain has an extremely long and detailed email in his inbox, with a list of each one of Yuzu’s jumps and the good and bad things about the jump currently. It would take Ghislain hours to answer in writing, and he’s not convinced all of it would make sense to Yuzu. He asks if they can video call instead.

Ghislain stays late in the club the next evening so he can talk to Yuzu. There’s not much happening around the rink at 8 pm, and it gives Ghislain an eerie, not entirely unpleasant feeling, as if he’s dropped into another world.

He hits send on the video call and holds the iPad at arm’s length, so Yuzu won’t get a screenful of his unshaven chin. But when the call finally goes through, it’s Akira on screen, beaming gently, eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

“Hello,” Ghislain says, a little flustered. “I didn’t know you needed jump help too.”

Akira laughs, shaking the camera out of position so Ghislain is staring at Akira’s right shoulder, clad in a puffy black jacket. It’s more amusement than Ghislain’s joke deserves, frankly.

“I am assistant today,” Akira says, once he positions the camera back on his face. “Two jobs: hold iPad, and prevent injuries.”

Ghislain hears a faint yelp in the distance, and Akira turns over his shoulder to say something back. He doesn’t need a translator to tell it’s teasing.

“Sounds good,” Ghislain says. He pitches his voice louder, so Yuzu can hear him. “Are we ready to start?”

“One minute,” Akira says. There’s a sickening jumble of color, and then Ghislain can see a scuffed yellow wall and a sheet of ice. Akira must have set the iPad on top of the boards. Yuzu’s torso glides into frame, clad all in black. He squats down and peers into the screen like a window, smiling.

“Hello,” Yuzu says. “Let’s go.”

Ghislain chuckles. “Okay, show me the quad sal. Slowly, don’t do that thing where you mess it up on purpose.”

“Don’t need to mess up on purpose,” Yuzu grumbles. “Quad sal is so bad, it hate me.” He zooms away, setting up with footwork and then launching into the air. All Ghislain can see is the lower half of his legs. He hears a thud as Yuzu, presumably, falls.

“This isn’t going to work,” Ghislain says. “Is there anywhere you can put your iPad so I can get a better view?”

Suddenly Ghislain’s view is a lot better—he’s seeing the whole rink, as if he were standing there at the boards. The camera slowly pans across and stops short at Yuzu, wiping snow off his exercise leggings.

“Better?” Akira’s voice is muffled but close. “I hold you—hold it. Hold it, you can see better, yes?”

“Yes, this is much better,” Ghislain says. He raises his voice. “Okay, Yuzu, show me the sal again.”

They work systematically through every one of the items on Yuzu’s jump list, from the mood swings of the sal to the weirdness of the lutz landing to the sudden wobbliness occurring when he adds a Rippon to his double toe. It’s a good, productive hour, and Ghislain feels energized at the end of it. He’s missed working with Yuzu, both of them putting their heads together to make more beautiful jumps. 

“That’s all for today, yes?” Ghislain asks. His finger hovers near the “end call” button.

The video flips so it’s showing Akira’s face again. “Yuzu, you are done, go cool down,” Akira says. “I have more thing to say.”

Yuzu’s answer is inaudible, and also probably in Japanese, but judging by Akira’s laugh, it must have been more teasing.

“What’s up?” Ghislain feels a little prickle of fear. “Nothing else happened to Yuzu, right?”

“No, no.” Akira shakes his head vigorously. “That is what I wanting to say. He is okay, really.”

“Good,” Ghislain says. “You didn’t have to stay on and tell me that, but thank you.”

There’s a brief silence. Akira’s brow furrows slightly. Ghislain doesn’t know if he should say something, or just hang up.

“You like texts, yes?” Akira says, after a little while.

Ghislain suddenly feels like the worst person in the world. “Yes, yes, of course I like them. I’m sorry. It’s just—“

“You are busy.” Akira’s voice is mild, but Ghislain still feels guilty.

“No, actually,” Ghislain says, and sees Akira’s eyebrows rise slightly. “I mean, I am busy, but that’s not why I wasn’t responding. I—it’s—“ He sighs. “I guess I just didn’t know what to say. It’s been a rough year for Yuzu, and I know you must be so worried about him, and—I don’t know. I just didn’t want to bother you.”

Akira smiles a little, softly. “Okay. It’s okay.” His face gets serious again. “But—I am always reading what you say. So please tell me thing, okay? Since we are friends.”

“Okay,” Ghislain says slowly. _Friends._ The word relaxes something in him, a tension releasing. “I’ll do my best.”

“Maybe you just sending frowning face emoji,” Akira quips.

Ghislain chuckles. “Maybe. Or—what’s the one for worried? Is that the one where the face is all zigzag?” He crumples his face inward in a poor attempt at demonstration. The iPad shakes with Akira’s laughter.

There’s an impatient noise offscreen. “Gomen,” Akira calls over his shoulder, and then says to Ghislain, “Sorry, have to go.”

“No worries,” Ghislain says. “Tell Yuzu to keep up the good work. We’ll talk more later.”

Akira’s smile is big and wide. “Yes. We talk more later.”

The next week, Ghislain stays late again for another video call. Yuzu’s jumps are a little more stable, and they review the sal in more detail. Once again, Akira holds the iPad, panning it along the rink so Ghislain can see the full arc of Yuzu’s jumps. After it’s all done, Akira tries to talk to Ghislain about jump technique for a while, until Yuzu playfully tugs the iPad from his grasp. “Goodbye, Ghislain, we talk later,” he says. The last thing on Ghislain’s screen is Yuzu’s smirk.

All through that long, cold winter, Ghislain looks forward to the video training sessions like a burst of warmth. Working together with Yuzu and Akira to make Yuzu’s jumps better and rebuild his confidence is the most satisfying work. He may be thousands of miles away, but it feels like Yuzu’s right next to him in the club. And talking to Akira is the icing on the cake, a weekly reminder that they’re not just colleagues but friends. When Yuzu tweaks his ankle and has to rest for two weeks, Ghislain is surprised how much he misses their calls. It’s a relief when Akira finally calls him again, setting up the iPad for a jump session, even if Yuzu’s legs are back to being wobbly.

Worlds arrives with the speed of a moving train. This season has felt endless to Ghislain, and yet here it is practically over. He stays back in Toronto but still watches the entirety of the men’s event, texting Akira whatever thoughts come to his mind. It’s some of the most fun he’s had watching skating since he became a coach, despite his nerves about Yuzu's health and performance. Being friends with Akira makes a difference, somehow. _i don’t think i could have survived this season without you_, Ghislain types into an empty message. After a moment, he deletes it. It feels way too personal, and it might weird Akira out. _we survived the season!_ he sends instead.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A dinner before Skate Canada awakens unexpected feelings.

After all the time Yuzu spent off-ice in 2014, Brian suggests he start the 2015 season at the Autumn Classic. 

“We’ll all go,” Brian tells Ghislain. “No reason why not to since it’s so close by.”

Ghislain doesn’t think Akira will come all the way to Canada for such a minor event. But when he messages Akira about it while dawdling in the club parking lot one morning, Akira responds _good!!! i will see you then!!_

Ghislain smiles at all the exclamation marks. _oh really?? it will be nice to see you_

_will be there for while too. skate canada is so soon after i will just stay in toronto and work with yuzu_

The grinning emoji Ghislain sends back is exactly how he feels. _do u need a place to stay?_

_JSF buys me hotel room_ Akira texts back. _but thank you very much_

_must be nice. maybe u can come over for a drink? don’t spend all your time working in canada!_

When Akira sends a thumbs up flanked by exclamation marks on either side, Ghislain laughs out loud, startling a pigeon perched on a nearby car. Even over text messages, Akira manages to be completely himself. 

The Cricket Club leaves for Barrie the next Monday morning. Ghislain takes Sonia and Javi Raya along in his car, the two of them chatting softly in Spanish in between pestering Ghislain to change the radio to Top 40.

Practices on Monday aren’t open to the public, but there’s a line of people waiting to buy tickets that stretches down the block and past the parking lot. Ghislain chuckles and shakes his head. He hopes someone warned the people at the ticket window about what happens when Yuzu is at a competition.

The rink is small, with bright blue boards and tall hockey glass hemming everything in. Ghislain puts his bag in one corner and looks around for the rest of the team. 

Someone taps him on the shoulder. Ghislain whirls around and finds himself looking right into the face of Akira, whose grin is big enough to light up the rink. They exchange a slightly awkward hug—Ghislain’s arms are up too high, because he’s forgotten Akira is a little taller, and when Akira tries to hug back their arms collide. But Akira is still smiling when Ghislain steps away.

“Nice to see you,” Akira says. “Been too long.”

“Seriously,” Ghislain says. “Was it a good trip here? No delays?”

“Very long,” Akira says. “But not bad, just a little…bumps? I don’t know how to say in English, when the plane goes up and down.” He makes a motion with his hands to illustrate.

“Turbulence,” Ghislain says.

Akira gives him a distressed look. “There’s no small word?”

“Sorry, okay, don’t hate me, I didn’t invent the English language. It’s not even my first language either.”

“Oh, really?” Akira looks genuinely interested. “What you speak first?”

“French. I’m from Quebec, they speak French there. Technically I learned them around the same time, but I spoke French the most at home.”

Akira nods. “I learn English in school, but school was—“ he wrinkles his nose. “Too long ago. So I'm making lot of mistakes, now I speak it more again.”

“Well, you sound great to me,” Ghislain says, and means it. It impresses him all the time, Akira’s quiet, unassuming competence in so many areas. “But if you want more practice, you can talk to me anytime.”

Akira smiles a little. There’s a lull in the conversation, and in the silence Ghislain feels as if he’s extended a serious invitation, somehow. But then Yuzu and Brian arrive, finally, Brian cheerful and Yuzu locked in to practice mode, and the moment passes.

Ghislain and Akira watch the practice by the boards, standing a little behind Brian. Yuzu drills jumps, runs through choreography, skating by to consult with one or all of them at various moments. Akira is holding the iPad to film, and it makes Ghislain smile, remembering the long-distance practice sessions. It’s a short practice, but it’s good—just Yuzu and the other men whizzing around the rink, no sound except faint pop music over the arena loudspeakers and the scratch of blades on ice. 

Tuesday’s practice session has a much different atmosphere. There are fans crammed into the first few rows of seats, holding up phones and cameras to capture every minute. Yuzu runs through choreography for his free program, hamming up his performance as though it were a competition. When he lifts his knees sharply and does a set of backward cross rolls, finishing with a flourish of his arms, the audience hoots. Even from this distance, Ghislain can see the little smirk at the corner of Yuzu’s mouth.

They’re busy all day, so Ghislain doesn’t have much time to chat with Akira—just a snatched conversation here and there, mostly about competition business. But there’s something companionable about standing at the boards with him and Brian, embarked on the same mission. It reminds him of the Olympics, and the warmth that ran through all the time they spent together. It’s reassuring to know that they can just pick up right where they left off. 

Autumn Classic is good for Yuzu. There’s still early-season roughness to his programs, and he makes a few errors. But for this point in the year, he’s in a great place, at least in Ghislain’s opinion. 

Of course, Yuzu is far less relaxed about his mistakes. He skates up to Ghislain the next Monday morning with determination in his eyes. 

“So, I’m thinking,” Yuzu starts, without preamble. “Quad toe was under twice. Can you help me fix?”

“Of course,” Ghislain says, and takes Yuzu through a few possibilities: releasing his arms too early, not keeping his core straight, not using enough speed. Yuzu works his way through all of Ghislain’s advice bit by bit, methodically. He lands a few decent, if wobbly, quad toes, and then a beautiful one at the very end, leg extended gracefully. A few of the other students clap, and Yuzu spins into a bow.

“Very nice,” Ghislain says. “That’s what we want to see, eh?”

Yuzu nods. “I can do lot more in next week, before Skate Canada.”

Ghislain’s head spins. “Isn’t Skate Canada two weeks from now?”

“We leaving that Wednesday,” Yuzu says. “So, more like one.”

“Shoot, you’re right,” Ghislain says. “Just a little more time to work on things.”

“Don’t worry, I work hard,” Yuzu says, as if that was at all in question.

“Is Akira here?” Ghislain asks, struck by a sudden thought.

Yuzu tilts his head to one side. “Who?”

“Your trainer. Kikuchi.”

“Oh, yeah, I just surprised. Not many people here call him first name.” Yuzu looks at Ghislain curiously. “He’s over in massage room.”

“Great, thanks.” Ghislain claps Yuzu on the back. “That’s all from me for today, okay? Keep up the good work.”

Ghislain takes his skates off and heads to the east wing of the building. In one of the side rooms, he finds Akira packing up massage oils and towels into a little rolling suitcase.

“Hey,” Ghislain calls.

Akira turns around. “Oh, hello!”

“I was just coming to ask, do you still want to have that drink at my place?”

“Of course,” Akira says, grinning. “Just drink, or food too?”

“We can do food too,” Ghislain says. “My cooking isn’t that great, but we can order in.”

“How about this. I bring food, you bring drink, I see you—when?”

Ghislain considers. “How about Saturday night?”

Akira nods. “Ok. Sounds perfect.”

The rest of Ghislain’s week is fairly unremarkable. He helps Yuzu with his checklist of preparations for Skate Canada, he works with Nam on his quad sal, he co-teaches the adult skaters with Tracy so Brian can get ready for Skate Canada. He spends most of his evenings cleaning up his condo, trying to make it look halfway presentable. Ghislain doesn’t have people over that often—he’s never really been the host type. There are piles of papers on his table that haven’t been touched in months.

By the time Saturday rolls around, it’s looking better. The condo isn’t that exciting at the best of times, but it’s clean and fairly homey and all the junk has been cleared or hidden away. Ghislain spends a long time in the liquor store, pondering his options, before deciding that Akira probably doesn’t have strong opinions about Canadian beer and grabbing a couple of random six-packs.

Akira arrives at the condo at six pm sharp, laden with a black tote bag filled with plastic containers of food.

“From Yumi,” Akira explains, setting them in a row on Ghislain’s kitchen table. “She worry I starve in Canada eating just hotel food, so she make me lots. Too much.”

“Yuzu’s mom?” Ghislain knew her first name, of course, but he’s never heard anyone address her by it. She has the same sharp, regal grace as her son, albeit a little more subdued, and the few times they’ve interacted, Ghislain has come away slightly intimidated. He can’t imagine calling her anything but Mrs. Hanyu.

Akira nods. “She always feed me. In Japan, in Toronto, don’t matter. I can cook pretty good myself, but she still worry.”

“Wow, that’s really nice of her,” Ghislain says. He takes two plates out of his cabinet. “She thinks you eat a lot though, huh?”

Akira laughs. “She just—prepared. She is a mother, she can’t help it.”

They heat the food up in the microwave and serve themselves heaping platefuls.

“Beer’s in the fridge,” Ghislain says, gesturing. “I didn’t know what you’d want, so I got a couple things.”

“Anything fine,” Akira says. Ghislain suppresses a smile. He knew it.

They sit across from each other at Ghislain’s tiny kitchen table. It’s a tight fit, and their legs keep knocking together accidentally as they shift in their seats. Eventually, they settle, digging into the food and taking swigs of beer.

“This is delicious,” Ghislain says, taking another forkful of vegetables. “You’ll have to tell Mrs. Hanyu her food is amazing.”

“You tell her yourself,” Akira says. “She is not so scary. She likes you.”

“Really? She told you that?”

“She like everyone at Cricket,” Akira says. “You take good care of Yuzu, and you keep it—secret. No cameras, no spotlights. She just want Yuzu to practice freely and calmly, to be himself and get helping he needs.” He wipes his mouth with his napkin. “She say, Cricket is almost like home now.”

“Well, that’s good,” Ghislain says. Maybe it’s just the beer, but Akira’s words make him feel warm inside, a tingling glow. “It’s home for me, too. I wouldn’t want to work anywhere else.”

“You have been there long time?” Akira asks.

“Almost as long as Brian has,” Ghislain says. “After he got the offer to coach, he was on the phone to me every day, pestering me. ‘Ghislain, you have to come work here, it will be so great.’ And I didn’t have anything else that exciting going on, and I couldn’t think of a good reason not to, so eventually I gave in.” He chuckles. “Brian just kind of—collected all his friends and brought them here. It was more like he was building a superhero team than a coaching staff. Canada’s golden boy and his merry band of gay misfits.”

“Gay?” Akira tilts his head to one side. He doesn’t sound alarmed, just intrigued.

“Okay, well, Tracy is straight, that’s true. But the rest of us…”

“Ohhh.” Akira nods. He gets a conspiratorial look on his face. “Me too.”

“Wait, I—really?” Of all the things Ghislain was expecting from this evening, this wasn’t one of them. “That’s amazing.” He grins at Akira, feeling even closer to him than before.

Akira nods, smiling brightly. “I like it, we have this in common.” He takes a long, thoughtful pull of his beer. “I think, this is why I like Cricket so much. It’s—safe.”

“Brian works really hard on that,” Ghislain says. “He doesn’t want it to be like when we were skating. Everyone having to be one way, having to prove the sport was tough and manly. Whatever that means.”

“This is other reason why Yumi likes Cricket,” Akira says. He doesn’t elaborate, but he doesn’t have to. An image rises, unbidden, in Ghislain’s mind—Yuzu in his free skate costume at the Olympics, the colorful jewels cascading down his left arm and the delicate white lace fading into black. The thought of someone trying to change Yuzu, box him in, makes him feel fierce and protective.

“No one’s ever going to change that,” Ghislain says, a little too loudly. “As long as Yuzu’s here, he can be however he wants to be.” He shakes his head. “Want another beer?”

Akira nods. Ghislain gets two more out of the fridge and hands one to Akira, who takes another long sip. The ring on his right hand clinks against the bottle.

“So that’s not a wedding ring, then,” Ghislain says, gesturing to Akira’s hand. “For some reason I thought someone told me you had a wife.”

Akira chuckles ruefully. “No, no. No wife. No husband or partner, either, just myself. This is class ring, from training program.” He holds it up to the light. “So maybe you say, work is my husband.”

Ghislain laughs. “I guess you could say the same thing about me. But hey, the work is good, right?”

“The work is very good,” Akira says. “I drink to that.” He raises his beer teasingly. Ghislain raises his in response. For a while, they’re silent, sipping and eating the last of their food.

“Do you want to—sit on my couch, or something?” Ghislain asks after a while. He feels bad that Akira’s been crammed into this tiny table for so long.

Akira blinks, as if coming out of a daze. “Okay. Is it good couch?”

Ghislain snorts. “I mean, it’s a couch. It’s pretty good, I guess.”

“Maybe we needing more beer,” Akira says, standing up and walking to the fridge.

“Oh, we definitely need more beer,” Ghislain says. “This has been a long week.”

They carry the other six-pack to Ghislain’s living room and sink into opposite ends of the couch, turning towards each other.

“How is Skate Canada already?” Akira asks, shaking his head. “We leaving Wednesday somehow, it’s too soon.”

“Early season goes by so fast,” Ghislain says. “Before you know it we’ll be at Nationals.”

Akira shudders. “Hope for better ones this year, knock on wood.” He knocks on Ghislain’s end table, a little too hard. The lamp rattles, and one of the coasters falls to the floor. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ghislain says. The beer and the company are filling him with benevolent warmth, and he feels as though he’s offered up his end table as a sacrifice for Yuzu’s continued health. He thinks about saying this, but can’t quite figure out how to without sounding ridiculous. “They were cheap anyway,” he says instead.

Akira nods. The friendly silence returns, and Ghislain sinks deeper into his couch. His beer is getting empty faster than he was expecting. He feels a little fuzzy-headed, a bit sleepy. Akira appears to be lost in thought. Then all of a sudden he giggles, a high burst of sound that startles Ghislain.

“What?” Ghislain asks.

“I just think of nickname for you.”

“Should I be concerned?” Ghislain asks.

“It’s not bad nickname. It’s just—your name is little hard to say. Ghi-su-lai-nuh.” Akira stretches out Ghislain’s name, the syllables unfurling from his mouth. “So I think, maybe I can call you—Buri.”

“Buri? What does that mean?”

“Is your family name, in Japanese. Bu-ri-an-do.” Akira giggles again. “Buri is easiest.”

“To be honest, I was expecting a lot worse,” Ghislain says. “You can call me Buri if you want to. Better than most nicknames I’ve had.”

“Ok,” Akira says. “Buri.” He draws out _Buri_ too, making it sound like a cat’s purr.

Ghislain chuckles, and can’t seem to stop. He’s drunk, or close to it, he realizes. The room seems to be glowing gently, the lamp on the end table oozing warm light like honey. Akira is looking at him with a faint smile, his head tilted to one side. Maybe he’s drunk too.

“How you say my name in French?” Akira asks.

Ghislain says _Akira_ with his deepest French accent, rolling the r. Akira smiles broadly, the corners of his eyes crinkling up, as if Ghislain has done something very exciting.

“Very nice,” Akira says. “Sounds good.”

“As good as Buri?” Ghislain teases.

“Almost,” Akira says, wrinkling his nose in fun.

“You’re a funny guy, Akira.”

Akira’s face lights up even more. “I’m glad you see.”

“What, that you’re funny? I don’t see how anyone could talk to you to for more than a minute and not find that out. The first time I met you, you made a joke about being Yuzu’s butler.”

“Not everyone see that,” Akira says. “People thinking—all kind of things about me. They see me concentrate to help Yuzu, and it make them—nervous.”

“Really? I guess I never noticed that.” Everyone’s a little serious when the athletes are competing—it comes with the territory. But Akira is such a calm and soothing person, with his big smile and that goofy sense of humor. It’s hard to imagine anyone being afraid of him.

“They think I do magic to help Yuzu win,” Akira says. “Or sneaky things, fake medicine. One time, other coach ask me if I am a witch doctor.”

“What’d you say to that?”

“I pretend I can’t speak English and don’t understand.”

Ghislain nods. “Good. What a ridiculous question.”

“I worry maybe everyone on team think this. People who aren’t Japanese, maybe they not understanding.” Akira sighs. “So, I’m glad you like me.”

“Of course I like you,” Ghislain says. He looks over with a smile. The air around Akira is faintly golden, as if he’s glowing, too. Akira’s expression is hazy and warm, that gentle smile turning up the corners of his mouth, and his dark eyes glint behind his glasses. Ghislain looks straight into them and feels his own face soften. “How could anyone not?”

Akira’s cheeks flush. He takes a swig of beer. The silence comes back, deeper this time.

It feels like they sit on the couch for a hundred years. Time stretches out, expanding, until the whole world is just them and Ghislain’s living room and the low lamplight.

Eventually, Ghislain catches a glimpse of the clock and realizes, with a start, that it’s already eleven. “Oh, geez, it’s late. Sorry.”

Akira startles. “Oh, wow. I think—I don’t know. Feels like no time at all.” He sits upright, groaning heavily.

“Do you want to stay here?” Ghislain asks. “You can sleep on the couch.”

Akira shakes his head. “No, don’t worry. I will call cab. JSF paying, it’s fine.”

“All right.” Ghislain is oddly disappointed. “Do you want the rest of your food back?”

“No, you keep. I have more back in hotel.”

Ghislain stands up, swaying slightly, and walks back into the kitchen. “All right.”

Akira stands up too, digging out his phone to call the cab.

At the door, Akira pauses, glancing back at Ghislain with a smile. “Thank you very much for drinks.”

“Anytime,” Ghislain says. “Good luck at Skate Canada.” They hug, brief but warm, and then Akira heads out to his cab and Ghislain is left in his kitchen with the dishes and the empty beer bottles. He sighs and heads for his bedroom instead. Why spoil a perfectly nice evening with chores? He’ll do them in the morning.

Ghislain has gentle, golden-colored dreams all night. He can’t remember them in the morning, but he wakes with a hopeful, tender feeling at the center of his chest. It’s as if something changed in the night, or something is about to happen. When he comes out of his bedroom and sees the bottles at the foot of his couch, he’s not annoyed, oddly. Instead, that feeling swells, and he finds himself smiling. The dishes in his kitchen make him feel the same. He puts some coffee on and rummages in his pantry for cereal, humming to himself. His body feels sluggish, after a night of drinking and the late bedtime, but his heart is lively.

His phone is on the kitchen table. The battery is almost dead, but there’s a message from Akira on the screen:

_thank you for very nicest evening!!! :) :)_

Ghislain stares at it for a long time, smiling. _anytime :)_ he writes back. Then he goes to plug his phone in.

It’s weird how happy last night made him. Not that he was expecting it to be bad, or anything—Akira is a fun guy, and Ghislain has always enjoyed the time they spent together. But he was expecting a nice evening, nothing more. Certainly not this fresh, joyful feeling, like he’s woken up on a spring morning.

Ghislain settles down at the kitchen table with his coffee and the newspaper on his iPad, but he can’t concentrate on reading. He keeps thinking about the night with Akira. The silences that were as companionable as the conversation. The way it felt like they talked for days instead of hours. When he looks across the table, he sees Akira’s face there, crinkled in a smile. Akira has such a kind face, and his silver hair and glasses make him look distinguished, almost regal, even when he’s wearing a tracksuit. His eyes were twinkling last night, his smile showing off the laugh lines carved into his cheeks, and it made him look even better…

A jolt of adrenaline, almost like panic, shoots through Ghislain. He realizes what this feeling reminds him of. Sitting in front of the TV at twelve years old, watching John Curry swoop up and down the ice, his heart fluttering whenever the camera got close to Curry’s face. He didn’t know what it was then, because he didn’t know he was gay back then either, but he sure knows now. Does he have a crush on Akira?

Ghislain shakes his head. He’s getting carried away. Just because he had an evening of nice conversation with Akira, he’s suddenly developing feelings? That’s the sort of thing he would have done in his younger days, when he still thought a long-term partner might be in the cards for him. When he was in his twenties, he saw eligible men in every intimate conversation, every long-held glance. But too many times, nothing came of it—sometimes not even a single date. 

It hurt at the time, but those wounds are long healed. It worked out for the best in the end. If he had a partner, he probably wouldn’t have accepted Brian’s offer to come to Cricket. He wouldn’t be able to travel the world with his students, or pour his whole self into his job without feeling guilty. He has no idea how Brian and Tracy do it.

His heart is still fizzing, thinking about Akira. But he’s old enough to know how this goes. Your hopes get built up too high, then come crashing down at the first sign of rejection. You have too many feelings at once, and it’s like your mind isn’t your own anymore, the way you’re obsessing over nothing. 

Besides, it’s not as if Ghislain wants a partner, anyway. Especially not one who lives on the other side of the world and is equally entrenched in his career. Ghislain _likes_ his life. So he’s just got to forget this, let it pass quickly, like a cold.

He doesn’t see or hear from Akira again in the four days before Yuzu’s team leaves for Skate Canada, which helps. The intensity of the evening fades somewhat, becoming a warm and pleasant memory without the associated fizz. And if Ghislain’s heart jolts when he sees texts from Akira about Skate Canada, well, it’s just taking a little longer to get past the feeling than he expected. This is only temporary.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghislain's nickname was inspired by a Japanese fan on Twitter who tweeted about her mother shortening the Japanese pronunciation of "Briand" to "Buri."
> 
> Inspiration for John Curry as Ghislain’s gay awakening comes from conversations about him with aromanticjungkook.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> World records, unwanted secrets, purple carnations, and stubborn feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: this chapter contains some references to Yuzu’s 2015-16 lisfranc ligament injury.

Some years, the figure skating season is one long exercise in seeing how much sleep you can lose. This is one of those years. There are students from the club in every single Grand Prix event, and while Brian’s enlisted some help for a couple of the competitions, he’s barely got a moment to catch his breath in the next six weeks. Ghislain’s own Grand Prix season will be much more relaxed—his primary role is to hold down the fort at daily practices while Tracy does commentary and Brian supports the competing skaters—and he plans to keep it that way. So he sleeps peacefully through the men’s short program at the NHK Trophy, and wakes to find Yuzu has set a new record.

_you should watch tomorrow,_ Akira’s text reads. _something big will happen._

Ghislain laughs. He knows anything can happen with Yuzu—the free could just as easily be a pressure-induced mess as a brilliant performance. 

_is that a promise?_

_you see. i guarantee will be big._

Ghislain does watch it, waking up well before he needs to for work. It’s not just because Akira texted him, he tells himself. He should really watch the free skate, because it’s newer than the short program, and Yuzu might need more help with the jumps. Getting to send messages to Akira about it is just a bonus.

As Yuzu takes the ice, his ferocity burns through the screen, jolting Ghislain awake. He watches, rapt, as Yuzu throws down an incredibly clean program. It’s a triumph, a feat, as close to perfect as Ghislain has ever seen anyone skate. When the scores come up, it’s even more stunning. He grabs his phone from the bedside table and texts Akira, simply: _you were right. thank you._

_I cried,_ Akira admits, bedecking his message with two weeping faces. _he is too good!!!!! we are so lucky_

_we really are,_ Ghislain responds. They may be spectators like all the rest, but they have an inside seat. 

Yuzu returns from Japan with a ticket to the Grand Prix Final and, remarkably, a list of things he needs to fix. They’re a lot more minor than they usually are at this point in the season, but it’s still wild to Ghislain, to treat this skate like it’s any other performance. He supposes this is why Yuzu is a world and Olympic champion. You don’t get to those heights by shrugging your shoulders and saying, “Eh, good enough.”

Ghislain finds himself wishing that Yuzu was a little calmer about the whole thing, though. Yuzu trains hard in the two weeks before the Final, with a frenetic intensity that reminds Ghislain of writing university papers the night before they’re due. Is he afraid he won’t win? Yuzu’s skating well right now—even if he doesn’t touch his records, he’s still got a good chance. There’s no need for all this.

“I think you got a good handle on that,” Ghislain tells Yuzu as he tests out a quad toe for the fifth time in a row. It looks good to Ghislain, but something about it is displeasing Yuzu; he keeps grimacing after he lands.

Yuzu’s head jolts up. “Okay. Yes.” He skates a couple loops around the rink, then switches to working on his triple lutz instead. He still doesn’t look happy, even though his lutz is looking pretty decent. Ghislain shakes his head. Yuzu’s always worrying about some jump.

Ghislain tries again towards the end of the practice session. “You have a lot of training under your hat,” he says, tapping his head. “You trust the training, okay? It’s not going to fall apart on you all of a sudden.”

Yuzu nods. “Yeah.” He looks a little skeptical, but he doesn’t try to argue for once, which is a rarity. Ghislain pats him on the back and sends him off for the day. It’s all he can do.

****  
Cricket has another watch party for the men’s free at the Final. The club room fills up with students, buzzing in anticipation. Ghislain settles himself in an armchair with a paper plate full of chips. 

There’s side chatter and laughter through the first men’s performances, quickly quieting down as Javi takes the ice. He delivers a dazzling performance, charming and elegant, the very picture of an old-fashioned Hollywood star. Everyone whoops and cheers when Javi, sheepish and grinning, becomes the second skater to ever break 200 points in the free. 

Yuzu takes the ice next, skating in slow circles until he reaches his position. He takes a deep breath—and the broadcast cuts to Brian and Akira, standing by the boards. Akira’s eyes are closed behind his black plastic glasses, his face deliberately calm. Yuzu’s jacket is draped over his hands. Pooh is perched on the boards in front of him. It’s only for a second, before the broadcast switches back to Yuzu, raising his hands in his starting pose.

Ghislain’s heart speeds up, but not for Yuzu, who is gliding down the ice with fierce confidence. No, Ghislain is still stuck on that brief glimpse of Akira at the boards. It’s ridiculous, he knows that. But the last time Ghislain saw Akira’s face, Akira was next to him on Ghislain’s couch. And seeing it again puts him right back there, lively and glowing.

He does his best to focus on Yuzu, sitting up straighter. Yuzu is delivering another incredible performance, his jumps so light and strong that Ghislain wants to burst with pride. But a little part of Ghislain is only seeing glimpses of grey hair and black frames as the camera follows Yuzu up and down the ice.

Yuzu thrusts his arms out in his ending pose, and everyone screams, in the audience and in the viewing room. It’s like Yuzu can hear them all the way from Canada, the way he looks into the camera and bows deeply. The fierce intensity of his character is fading, replaced by pride and satisfaction. There’s a shot of the ice, littered in stuffed animals, of Yuzu’s grin as he takes one last bow. And just before a commercial break, flashing by so fast it feels like Ghislain is hallucinating, another shot of Brian and Akira, applauding this time. Ghislain’s treacherous heart picks up again. What do the CBC broadcasters have against him, specifically, that they keep showing this stuff? And more importantly, why is a split-second glimpse of Akira affecting him so much?

It’s because he’s ignored his crush too aggressively, Ghislain decides as Yuzu’s new world record appears on the screen. Getting over something requires a delicate balance. By trying too hard not to think about his feelings, he’s inadvertently made them bigger. If he just acts normal—treats Akira like any other friend—he won’t have heart attacks every time a camera flashes on grey hair. Akira will just be another person Ghislain knows. It’s a better goal, given that Ghislain will almost certainly see Akira at Worlds this year. He resolves to start on it right away. If Yuzu can score three hundred and thirty points total, surely Ghislain can transform a crush to an ordinary friendship.

Yuzu goes straight to Japan from Barcelona, so Ghislain is once again fielding jump questions over email—more than he expected, given that Yuzu smashed the world record so thoroughly. But Yuzu found something in a few of his landings to nitpick, and he has a question about jump consistency that makes Ghislain scratch his head. He also appears to be worried about his quad toe again.

Eventually, Ghislain can read between the lines. Yuzu’s nervous that he’s not going to make history every time. He thinks he has to keep breaking records in order to challenge himself. _You still have a lot of room for error before you stop winning, don’t worry,_ Ghislain wants to write back, but stops himself. He doesn’t know the magic words to unlock Yuzu from his perfectionism, but he knows those ones won’t help. Instead, he answers Yuzu’s questions as gently and calmly as he can, and hopes Yuzu can feel Ghislain’s confidence in him through the screen.

Yuzu wins Nationals, or at least that’s what Ghislain assumes when he wakes up on Boxing Day to a thumbs-up emoji from Akira. Ghislain’s back in Montreal for the holidays, with his sister and her family, so he doesn’t have time to catch up on the competition. He’s too busy coaxing his niece and nephew to get off their phones and play a board game with him for a change. But he figures he’ll get a full update later.

Except he doesn’t, really. After Nationals, Akira goes uncharacteristically silent. Aside from a quick rundown of Nationals, and a couple of questions about toe jumps, Ghislain doesn’t hear from Akira at all during January. Ghislain isn’t the kind of guy who’s going to bother someone to text more, especially someone he’s trying not to have a crush on. Akira doesn’t owe him constant updates. But Ghislain misses the updates, all the same.

February is more of the same, at first. Ghislain gets bummed enough that he comes up with excuses to text Akira. He goes to a Japanese restaurant and snaps a picture of the food, captioning it _not as good as Yumi’s_. He sidles behind Brian and rings the bell for a clean Yuzu run-through just so he can say he did. He pretends he can’t remember the name of a bone in the ankle. All these texts elicit responses, and often emojis, from Akira, but the conversation never continues from there, and so Ghislain lets it drop. Akira must be extra busy lately.

Ghislain’s phone buzzes one evening in the middle of February, and he swipes through excitedly when he sees it’s a message from Akira. But the message itself makes his heart stop. _please call, we have to talk._

Ghislain presses call almost immediately, too nervous to wait. Two fears swirl in his head. The first, that Yuzu is injured somehow. It’s the most plausible, but Ghislain just saw Yuzu yesterday and it didn’t seem like anything was wrong with him. The second, less rational but just as deep, is the fear that Akira has somehow figured out about the crush Ghislain had, or has, on him, and wants to talk about it.

When Akira picks up and the video comes into focus, his brow is creased and his lips are set in a line. Ghislain’s mouth goes a little dry. Whatever it is, this can’t be good.

“What’s going on?” Ghislain asks immediately.

Akira coughs lightly. “Yuzu is injured.”

Ghislain feels relief and dread simultaneously, as one fear disappears and the other is confirmed. “Wait, but when? How? I had a session with him yesterday, he seemed fine.”

“He hide it,” Akira says. “He say don’t tell anyone, but—I am so worried for him, I can’t say nothing now.”

The dread in Ghislain’s heart deepens. “For how long?”

“Since NHK, I think,” Akira says. He rubs the top of his head. “He hide from me, too. He finally tell me after Nationals.”

“It can’t be that bad, though,” Ghislain says desperately. “He broke all those records, and his jumps seem okay…”

Akira shakes his head. “No, it’s bad. It’s—ligament in the front of the foot. I can’t say the name. L-i-s-f-r-a-n-c.” He holds up the back of his hand to the camera, flattening it and pressing his fingers together. “It’s like here, if this is foot.” He points to a spot in between the knuckle of his middle and ring finger with his other hand. “Not good. Jumps making worse. Best thing for is rest, but of course Yuzu—“

“You said he’s been hurt for a while?” Ghislain interrupts. “And you knew since Nationals?”

Akira averts his eyes from the camera. “Yes.”

“And, wait—“ Ghislain’s head is whirling as he tries to process this. “That was almost two months ago. You didn’t say anything.”

“No.” Akira still isn’t looking at him.

“What the fuck? Why not?”

“Yuzu tell me to keep a secret.”

“That’s not a good reason. I work with him every day on jumps, you’re not going to send me a text to say, hey, Ghislain, you are helping Yuzu make his injury worse? Eh?”

Akira looks like he wants to sink through the floor. He doesn’t say anything.

“Look, I know what Yuzu is like,” Ghislain says. “I know he’s gonna skate until all his limbs fall off, that’s just how he is. But I don’t want to help him make it worse! I—“ Ghislain suddenly remembers Yuzu worrying about his quad toe, Akira texting him about the mechanics of toe jumps. “Toe jumps make it worse, don’t they.”

Akira nods.

“Oh, my god,” Ghislain says. “You couldn’t at least have given me a hint?”

“Yuzu say, don’t tell, don’t tell,” Akira says. “I keep telling him, they need to know, but he still say don’t. And I don’t want to lie, so I just—don’t say.”

“Ok, but that’s not good,” Ghislain says. He feels sick, thinking about how he’s been working with Yuzu like everything’s fine. “Maybe we can’t stop him, but we have to help him somehow. And maybe if you told me earlier, I could have done something about it.”

“Is little late, when I realize what it is—“

Ghislain shakes his head. “No, you should have told me as soon as he came to you with pain or discomfort. I don’t see why this is hard. We’re…” He stops himself from saying _we’re friends._ Maybe they aren’t, really. “You know me,” he finishes lamely, instead.

Akira shifts in his seat.

“Who else knows?” Ghislain asks. 

“Maybe Yumi,” Akira says. “No one else. Yuzu don’t even know I tell you.”

“Shit,” Ghislain says. “And you’re telling me anyway?”

“I’m sick of secret too,” Akira says. “I know he need more help, but he won’t ask for it. So—I’m thinking I tell you, you can help him. I’m sorry I’m not telling earlier, but I don’t know what to do.”

Some of Ghislain’s frustration fades. He knows it must take a lot, going behind Yuzu’s back like this, and he doesn’t know if he’d have the courage to do it himself. 

“It still have to be secret,” Akira says. “I don’t want Yuzu to stop tell me about injuries. But he needs someone to look out for him, without saying anything.” Akira looks directly into the camera, eyes pleading. “Will you help me take care of him, Buri?”

Words fade in Ghislain’s mind as he looks into Akira’s eyes. _Not unless you tell Brian too. I can’t keep your secrets. This isn’t healthy._ Akira needs him, and Yuzu needs him, and Ghislain would have to be a million times stronger to say no to that. 

“Of course I will,” Ghislain says. “What do I need to do? You said toe jumps aren’t good for it…”

Akira bends down. “Yes, I have notes here. Let me see…”

They talk for a little while longer, Akira catching Ghislain up on how Yuzu’s been feeling and the techniques they’ve been trying. Ghislain’s worry about Yuzu increases—is he really going to skate at Worlds like this? But underneath it all is a pleased little glow, knowing that Akira trusts him like this. He’s the one Akira came to with this secret, not anyone else. 

Akira has to go to his clinic eventually, but he hangs up with a promise to be in touch. Ghislain takes a huge, deep breath, runs his fingers through his hair a few times, and then goes into his kitchen to get a beer. While he’s rummaging through his fridge, his phone pings. It’s a text from Brian. _switching sessions around 2morrow bcuz i forgot about meeting w/cricket board. u take stephen first then do jun @3. -B_

A sick wave of guilt rolls over Ghislain. He can’t tell Brian anything Akira just told him, even though it worried him so much that he wants to talk it out with someone. He’s just got to take his sessions with Yuzu, help the students train, act like it’s a regular day at the club and nothing’s wrong. It seems impossible. And if Brian ever finds Ghislain kept this from him…

Ghislain shoves the thought away, putting his phone down. He digs a beer out of the fridge and pops it open. He stares off into the distance for a long time, turning over options in his head. But in the end, he can only choose what he’s already chosen. He texts Brian back _ok_. 

Ghislain drinks two more beers while watching half of a shitty hockey game between the Leafs and the Kings, staring at the players’ feet and trying to decide which ones could survive Tracy’s stroking lessons. It makes him feel better, but also more maudlin, his worries beautiful and dramatized like a tragedy in a country song. He pictures Yuzu darting in between the hockey players, fast and lithe. Yuzu on land is like a bird with clipped wings, and Ghislain doesn’t want this injury to ground him for too long. He texts Akira _do you think yuzu will be okay_.

Akira doesn’t respond for a little while, enough time for some of the beer to wear off and for Ghislain to feel embarrassed. Just as Ghislain is shuffling into the bathroom to get ready for bed, his phone buzzes. _we will help him be okay._

Right, Ghislain remembers. They can do something about that. That was the whole point of this in the first place.

****  
The flight to Boston is about two hours. Ghislain spends most of that time ostensibly reading a book, but he can’t get past the first few pages. It’s not for lack of trying—it’s a book on the history of the Expos, a library hold that finally came in, and he’s been looking forward to reading it. But he keeps glancing up and to the left, looking towards the row that holds Yuzu and his mom. From this angle, it looks like Yuzu is napping, but Ghislain keeps looking up anyway.

The thought of this competition terrifies him. There’s a black pit where his stomach should be, awaiting something dreadful and inevitable. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen to Yuzu—he has different fears every hour—but he can feel in his bones it won’t be good.

Akira had gently encouraged Yuzu to withdraw, but Yuzu had refused.

“He don’t want to lose spots for next year,” Akira said when he called Ghislain the next day. “And he think—there are so many expectations.”

_It’s not on him,_ Ghislain wanted to say, hearing everything that was behind those simple sentences. But it was Yuzu’s decision, not his. And so here they are, on the way to Boston, even though Yuzu can’t skate without painkillers injected into his foot.

“We have to look after him,” Akira said, at the end of that terrible call. Ghislain doesn’t know how he can, though. So he glances over at the Hanyus every few minutes, in case he thinks of something.

When they disembark, it’s a mess of customs lines and baggage claim and crowds. A few Japanese journalists are waiting with TV cameras and microphones, and a little group of fans is standing to one side with their phones out. Everyone else in the airport is stepping around the chaos like it’s not happening. It’s pretty standard, as Yuzu’s arrivals go, but all Ghislain can see is more pressure on Yuzu when he’s already struggling. A man with a thick Boston accent asks Ghislain if he’s looking for a cab, and Ghislain almost says yes, just to get away. Yuzu only has to answer a few questions before his manager ushers them all to the van waiting outside. It seems like ages before they get to the hotel, crawling along through airport traffic. 

It’s only five pm, but Ghislain is exhausted. He’s expecting to just go to his room once they check in. But when they walk through the sliding doors and into the lobby, Akira is there, sitting on one of the stiff beige couches. He stands up when he spots Yuzu and the team and spreads his arms wide. “Hello, welcome.”

“Oh, is it your hotel?” Brian jokes. Everyone laughs, except Ghislain, because Ghislain feels like he got walloped in the chest. Somehow Ghislain hadn’t prepared for the moment when he saw Akira again in person, even though he knew it was coming. And now Akira is standing a few feet away, and Ghislain can’t breathe properly. He swallows hard. _Friendship,_ he reminds himself sternly.

Akira greets Brian and Yuzu and the JSF officials, and then he comes to a stop in front of Ghislain. “Buri was hiding,” he says, with a broad smile.

“Hey,” Ghislain says, smiling back. There’s a little pause, where nothing happens, and Ghislain doesn’t want to be awkward, so he steps forward and hugs Akira. It’s quick and tight, firm but not too lingering.

“Glad you make it safely,” Akira says when they step apart. “We need you.”

“Me too, it’s good to be on the ground again,” Ghislain says. He ignores the other half of what Akira said, and the buzzing in his ears. _We need you._

There’s a noise near them, and both Ghislain and Akira turn to see Yuzu. He looks thoughtful and annoyed at the same time, eyebrows delicately arching upwards. “Kikuchi-sensei,” he whines, and then something else in Japanese, equally petulant.

“Have to go do my job,” Akira quips. “Do you want—dinner later?”

“I might fall asleep before then,” Ghislain admits. It’s true, but he also feels like he needs to put some distance between himself and Akira, to give his heart a chance to calm down. He thinks he hears Yuzu calling him an old man, but he decides to ignore it.

Akira hums. “Okay. But, breakfast tomorrow? We need to have meeting for—preparing this competition.”

“Yeah, okay.” Ghislain can’t argue with that.

The team scatters—Yuzu and Akira to consult, Brian to check in with Javi, Tracy to visit some of her friends from the CBC broadcast team. Ghislain goes up to his hotel room. He orders a sandwich from room service and eats half of it, then sprawls out on his bed and channel surfs for a while, until his eyes glaze over.

He wakes up with a start. The clock on the nightstand says 9:30 pm. His shoulders are aching—he must have fallen asleep sitting up. The TV is blaring the local news. He shakes himself, grumbling, and gets out of bed to brush his teeth.

On the way back to bed, he checks his phone. He has a few emails, a weather alert about high winds, and a message from Akira. _we need to help yuzu a lot. his foot is very hurting :(_

A cold rush of fear spreads through Ghislain. _ :( I hope we can_ he types quickly.

Ghislain holds on to his phone for ten minutes, but Akira doesn’t say anything back. He’s too keyed up to go back to sleep, so he channel-surfs again until he lands on a nature show, something about the Amazon rainforest. It takes him a lot longer to drift off this time. 

When Ghislain wakes again in the morning, rising out of a deep sleep with no dreams, it takes him a little while to remember what he’s supposed to be doing. Then it comes crashing down on him: breakfast with Akira. To talk about Yuzu. Right. Ghislain gets out of bed reluctantly, takes as much time in the shower as he feels he can spare. 

Akira is waiting for him in the hotel Starbucks, sitting at a low table that’s too small to fit his knees. He smiles when Ghislain approaches, but it’s a gentler, more hesitant smile than usual. It doesn’t lessen the knot of tension in Ghislain’s stomach.

“Did you order already?” Ghislain asks. “I can get you something.”

Akira gestures to a steaming cup in the center of the table. “They have tea here. Not like McDonald’s.”

It takes Ghislain a minute to remember what Akira’s talking about, but then he smiles. That morning in Sochi, nervous and restless, feeling uncertain about Yuzu’s future. A morning not unlike this morning.

“How is he doing?” Ghislain asks, sitting down with his cup of coffee and a bagel. Akira hesitates, and Ghislain’s heart thuds. “Is it bad?”

Akira glances around, then lowers his voice to a whisper. “I wish he withdraw, I hate to see him—do this. He is so hurt. He say—“ Akira swallows audibly. “He say, if he tie boot laces tight, his foot is numb, so there is no pain. And with no pain, he can skate.”

Ghislain’s hand shakes, and he has to set his coffee down. “No, oh, no.”

“And he is—he don’t thinking like someone who is hurt. He is not saying, it’s okay if I don’t win. He still want to win.”

“I’ve seen him do some incredible things,” Ghislain says slowly. “But a win when he’s like this? I don’t know if he could.”

“I try to tell him,” Akira says, his voice rising. “I try to say, be happy with something less. But…he keeps talk about expectations. I don’t think he is happy without gold.”

“When is he ever?” Ghislain lets out a bitter chuckle.

Akira swallows hard again. “I have to tell you worst part, I’m sorry.”

“There’s something worse?”

Akira looks down at his hands as he speaks, folded together on the table. “This injury, it’s very tricky. He will need lot of rest, when it is over. But he maybe also—he maybe also need surgery. Then he might having to skip next year, or—“

Akira doesn’t finish the sentence, but Ghislain can guess. It floods him with icy fear. There’s so much heaped on Yuzu’s head, so much at stake, and so many terrible things waiting for him at every turn. Ghislain can barely do single jumps these days, but his entire being wants to go out on the ice for Yuzu, skate the programs so Yuzu doesn’t have to.

“I—“ Ghislain says, and it sounds rough, to his horror. “What are we going to do?”

“We have to—keep eye on him,” Akira says. “He go off by himself, he think bad about himself, we can’t let that happen. He has to know we look out for him, we care about him.”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says. “I guess that’s all we can do.”

“Yuzu is strong,” Akira says. “He having hard time, but, he have lot of hard time. That’s just life. He can get through, and we can help.” He reaches out to pat Ghislain’s hand where it lies on the table. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says, but it isn’t okay, because he swears his heart skipped a beat when Akira touched him, and shouldn’t he be over this by now? 

They drink their coffee and tea in relative silence, Ghislain munching on his bagel in between sips. It doesn’t feel like there’s much more to say about this. They just have to help Yuzu get through this weekend, together. And, hopefully, this undercurrent of other feelings will fade away as they focus on Yuzu. 

Akira checks his watch. “I need to get Yuzu ready for practicing today. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says. “I’ll see you at practice.”

The first practice is in the early afternoon. Ghislain’s heart pounds in a different way when he sees Yuzu dressed in sleek black, skates laced up and an expression of defiant uncertainty on his face. _Don’t skate,_ he wants to say. _Go home, rest, you’ll have other chances._ But he’s tried that before, and it didn’t work. He knows why Yuzu won’t withdraw, and he just has to accept it.

“Go light on the jumps today,” Ghislain tells Yuzu. “Save your energy.”

Yuzu flashes Ghislain a fierce look.

“I mean it,” Ghislain says, trying to make his voice sound firm and unyielding. “This is practice. You’re not going to win a competition in practice. Just get yourself a little warm, test out the ice, then we’re done, okay?”

“Fine,” Yuzu says. He does what Ghislain says, though, mostly focusing on spins and steps. Ghislain watches him closely, trying to assess his condition. Yuzu is attacking everything with a wild energy, terrifying and powerful. His footwork is sharper than ever, arms and legs slicing through the air. Ghislain knows it’s because he’s afraid, and desperate to prove himself. But your average onlooker would never know Yuzu was injured.

Maybe he was wrong, Ghislain wonders. Maybe Yuzu will rise to the occasion. No outcomes are good here, but that would be the least bad: a win, a gold medal to comfort Yuzu during recovery, something to answer the expectations heaped on his head. Then he could gracefully leave the public eye for a while, secure in his title.

Yuzu skates up to him at the end of the session, sweaty and breathless. “Was that good?”

“Yes,” Ghislain says, firmly and a little too loudly. “That was good.” Akira turns to look at the sound, and Ghislain flashes him a reassuring grin. “Good, right?” he calls.

Akira nods, grinning back. “Yes, very good.”

Yuzu’s brow is furrowed as he wipes it. Maybe he’s skeptical that they mean it. Ghislain reaches over and squeezes Yuzu’s shoulder. “I think you’re ready for tomorrow.” He fills the words with as much power as he can, willing it to come true with the sound of his voice. Yuzu gives him a tired smile.

On the morning of the short program, Ghislain wakes a little too early. He stares at his phone for a while, remembering Sochi, wondering if he should text Akira and ask if he’s up. But that feels like it would be assuming too much, somehow. So he just lies in bed for an hour, until he has to get up or he’ll be late.

At the final practice before the short program, Yuzu tosses out three perfect quad toes, one right after the other.

Ghislain’s stomach clenches. “Be careful,” he says, when Yuzu circles back for a sip of his sports drink.

Yuzu flashes a dark, glowering look at him. Ghislain flinches. He should have known better than to say that.

“All I mean is—save it,” Ghislain says, gentling his tone. “Don’t use it up before the short. Give your best performance in the competition.”

Yuzu nods, twice. “I will.”

Five hours later, the final group of skaters lines up to take the ice. Ghislain sends Yuzu off with a soothing pat on the back. He’ll be watching from the monitors—Brian didn’t want too many people at the boards.

Yuzu only does one quad in the six-minute warmup, right before his name is called. Ghislain breathes a sigh of relief. Maybe the message got through after all. It’s hard to watch Yuzu zoom around as if nothing’s wrong, hear the cheers and howls as the announcer lists his accomplishments. Ghislain knows that the people in the stands will cheer for Yuzu no matter what happens next. Yuzu’s fanbase has a devotion that is legendary in the sport. But Ghislain isn’t sure Yuzu thinks they will, and that worries him.

From the moment his music starts, Yuzu is a smoldering fire, energy and power burning bright under a calm exterior. The piano music is gentle, and Ghislain can see Yuzu try hard to match its gentleness. But today, Yuzu attacks this program the way he attacks Seimei, like a battle to be won. It’s oddly compelling, if a little frightening, like watching a windstorm blow branches from a tree. The most important thing, though, is that Yuzu doesn’t make a single mistake.

As Yuzu moves into his final pose, Ghislain lets out the breath he’s been holding. This is going to score well, at least. Yuzu lowers his arms with vigor. His face contorts into a scowl, and he screams something at what looks like the top of his lungs. Ghislain can’t read his lips—it must be Japanese, anyway. Still, it makes him shiver. This Yuzu seems volatile, in ways he normally isn’t.

The program scores over a hundred and ten points, almost but not quite Yuzu’s record. Yuzu seems a little disappointed, like he was expecting to break it. Still, it’s an excellent score, and when the team comes backstage, Yuzu is smiling. He gives Ghislain a sweaty, limp-armed hug.

“Good work,” Ghislain says, patting him on the back. “Nice job out there. You stayed focused, eh?”

Yuzu nods. The smile has faded somewhat, his face back to neutral. “Yeah. I knowing—what I want. I getting it.”

“There you go,” Ghislain says. “Go sit down, okay? You look beat.”

Yuzu nods again, shuffling off to drape himself over a nearby metal chair. He wipes his face with a towel, taking long gulps from his sports drink.

Akira maneuvers his suitcase over so it’s within arm’s reach of Yuzu, then goes back to stand by Ghislain. “Done with short,” he says to Ghislain quietly.

“Yeah, one down, one to go,” Ghislain says. “At least he looked good out there.”

“Pretty good,” Akira says. “I mean, skating good, but—kind of scary. You think?”

Ghislain remembers Yuzu’s face after the program finished, the ferocious energy radiating from his performance. “Yeah, he seemed—intense.”

Akira shakes his head. “Hope it is good tomorrow.”

“What did he say when he was done, do you know?” Ghislain asks. “I couldn’t tell.”

“_Mite_,” Akira says. “Means look, look at me. See me.”

“Oh,” Ghislain says. It makes him shiver a little, thinking about that cry coming from the depth of Yuzu’s heart. “Well, we saw him for sure. I hope the judges see him tomorrow too.”

“Me too,” Akira says. They glance over at Yuzu, unintentionally in sync. Yuzu is staring at them, eyes zoned out and hands fiddling with the cap of his water bottle. Akira says something in Japanese, gently, and Yuzu doesn’t respond. He repeats it a little louder, and Yuzu seems to snap out of it, shaking his head. Akira moves over to stand closer to him, anyway. Ghislain feels rebuffed, somehow, and tries to tell himself he’s being silly. This isn’t about him and Akira hanging out—they’re here for Yuzu, after all.

Soon, Yuzu departs for the press conference, and Brian gathers the team together for a meeting. “That was a really strong start to the competition,” he tells them. “I don’t think I need to tell you to do anything different on Friday. We’re set up in a good position, I think we’re going to see some really good results.”

A shiver crawls down Ghislain’s spine. “Hope so.”

Brian chuckles a little. “Where’d you leave your positive attitude?”

“Nowhere,” Ghislain says. “I just—“ The rest of the team is looking at him. He’s giving more away than Yuzu would want him to. “Ice is slippery, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Fair enough,” Brian says. “But I still think we’ll have a lot to be happy about for everyone on the team. Okay, good talk. Get some rest, I’ll see you all for practice tomorrow.” 

The team scatters. Brian asks Ghislain to dinner, but he begs off, saying he’s too tired. More than that, he’s afraid he’ll tell Brian about Yuzu’s injury without meaning to. The secret is digging a moat between him and Brian, pushing them apart. He wishes so badly that the competition was over and all of this was behind them. 

The second day of practice is a lot like the first. Yuzu fights hard, Ghislain and Akira try to rein him in. He’s still full of that same fierce intensity from the day before, simmering underneath his skin and bubbling up into wild movements. He’s dripping with sweat when he gets off the ice, but Ghislain still gives him a hug, because it seems like he needs it. Yuzu twists his mouth into something resembling a smile, patting Ghislain’s back with his gloved hands.

After the practice, Ghislain doesn’t know quite what to do. This day off feels long and endless, an unnatural patch of calm in the midst of a raging storm. Akira asks Ghislain if he wants to go watch the ladies’ short, and Ghislain decides he might as well, just to pass the time. A couple skaters from the club are competing, and it’d be nice to watch them from the seats, anyway.

There are seats reserved for other skaters, tucked away in the back of the top row so the audience won’t bother them. Ghislain and Akira wedge themselves into two of them and watch the last three groups of ladies. Akira pulls a crumpled bag out of his backpack and offers it to Ghislain, who takes a handful. It turns out to be chips—some kind of seafood flavor. They crunch as they watch, fingers occasionally brushing as they reach into the bag, the skaters twinkling far below them like distant planets. They don’t say much. It’s oddly soothing.

Ghislain comes back to himself as they shuffle out of the arena, just two members of the massive crowd. “Do we have other things to do today?” He’s genuinely forgotten. It’s as if they’ve been in another world.

“I think no,” Akira says. “Did you…want to do something?” His eyes on Ghislain’s face are patient and earnest, like he’s not just asking out of politeness. It scares Ghislain somehow, all that openness. Like they’re getting too close.

“Maybe not,” Ghislain says, and wonders if he’s imagining the subtle rearrangement of Akira’s face into something more neutral. “I should get ready for tomorrow.”

“Good point,” Akira says. He sighs. “Yuzu probably needing me, I think.”

That night, Ghislain flips through the channels until he finds something totally mindless to watch. He sets the volume low and gets under the covers, settling his head against the pillows. There’s a little peace left in his heart from watching the skating earlier, the tiniest traces of contentment. Maybe, he thinks, it’ll stick around until tomorrow. He drifts off to sleep easily.

But when Ghislain wakes up the next morning, there’s a hollow feeling in his stomach, like he’s accidentally overslept. It’s the free skate, he realizes. He groans and sits up in bed. He wishes he could stay in this room, blankets over his head, until Yuzu is done skating. He doesn’t want to watch by the rink, doesn’t want to pretend he isn’t worried. But he promised Akira, and he promised Yuzu. So he gets out of bed after all.

The mood in the hotel lobby is focused, bordering on tense. It’s impossible for Ghislain to read Yuzu’s face—he’s gone distant, the door slammed, as he enters whatever space makes his feats possible.

Once again, Yuzu in morning practice is overzealous, his intensity dialed all the way up. After the fourth quad toe attempt, Ghislain makes a slashing motion across his throat and shakes his head. Yuzu glares at him and bares his teeth, so different from his usual response that Ghislain feels shaken. Yuzu must see something in Ghislain’s face, because his eyes get big and concerned, and he smiles faintly as if in apology. It’s still Yuzu in there, after all. But this doesn’t bode well.

The wait for the free skate feels interminable. Ghislain has been appointed to stand guard over the little warm-up area, and he keeps pacing back and forth. Every so often he glances over at Yuzu, stretching and staying loose under Akira’s watchful eye. Yuzu doesn’t seem to notice, but Akira glances back every now and then, giving Ghislain a firm, conspiratorial nod. It’s the only thing keeping Ghislain from complete panic.

Finally, it’s time for Yuzu to skate. As the whole team walks out for the six-minute warmup, Ghislain is hit with a wave of fear, leaving his mouth dry and his legs shaky. He looks over at Akira, instinctively. Akira’s face is already settled into the mask of concentrated mild concern that he wears during competitions. Ghislain takes a deep breath. That’s just what he’s got to do, too.

Ghislain stands back from the boards, among the JSF people and the rink volunteers. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, almost in time with Yuzu’s recorded one at the beginning of the program. Whatever’s going to happen will happen. Nothing he can do about it now.

In a certain sense, it isn’t that bad. It’s messy—Yuzu has some shaky landings, he looks tired and wobbly on some of the steps and spins, and he falls and misses a combo. It’s not a great skate by any means, but it’s also, objectively, not the worst. With the lead he has from yesterday, it might not even knock him out of first. Plenty of people in this competition would be grateful to have a skate like that.

But Ghislain can see Yuzu’s face when he finishes, the fear and pain and the desperate battle with his emotions. Yuzu needed himself to be perfect, to prove everyone wrong. And that hasn’t happened. To Yuzu, this is a disaster.

Ghislain’s stomach clenches as he watches Yuzu skate off towards Brian. He wishes he was there at the door too, arms open to give Yuzu a big hug. He can tell from the twist of Yuzu’s mouth that Yuzu’s trying not to cry, and it makes his heart ache.

Yuzu’s score is in the one-eighties—the kind of score that, three years ago, would have seemed impressive. But it’s so far below how Yuzu’s been doing this season that it feels like a joke. For the first time in a long time, he’s left the door open for someone to surpass him.

Ghislain moves backstage with the rest of the team. Yuzu speeds down the hallway in front of them, walking fast even with his blade guards on. A volunteer opens the door to the green room for him, and he disappears inside. 

By the time all the stuff is stowed in the side room next to the five bags of Poohs and they’ve gathered around the TVs backstage, it’s Javi’s turn on the ice. Javi had been having some troubles of his own this morning—blisters, boot problems—but he looks at ease and confident. Ghislain’s heart lightens a little, watching Javi’s program. It’s a _Guys and Dolls_ medley, that classic leading-man character that Javi does so well, and it always reminds Ghislain of programs he loved as a kid. When Javi makes it into the second half with no mistakes so far, Ghislain breathes a sigh of relief. Cricket could have two out of three on the podium…

A wave of guilt rushes back in. Javi is only 12 points behind Yuzu. If he skates clean, Yuzu will be the one in second, for the second year in a row. Of all the people Yuzu could lose to, Javi is the one he’d mind the least, but Ghislain knows how badly he doesn’t want to lose at all. Fear and pride twist in his stomach as Javi finishes his program with no mistakes at all. He wonders how Yuzu is feeling, back in the green room.

When Javi’s scores come up and he takes the lead over Yuzu, Ghislain swallows hard. He hears the squeak of sneakers on plastic flooring and looks up to see Akira walking with long, purposeful strides towards the green room. Ghislain envies Akira’s ability to walk in, with some pretext of delivering a snack or a fresh towel, and provide the comfort Yuzu needs. He’s stuck here, rooted to the spot until they’re done.

After a few minutes, Ghislain feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. He turns around and sees Yumi. Her elegant face wears an expression he’s often seen on Yuzu—something passionate and defiant, as if love were battle armor. She must be going to the green room, too, or maybe to hover nearby until Yuzu needs her.

“Can you—look after Poohs? And the bags?” she asks, voice hesitant.

Ghislain would walk into fire if Yumi asked him to, in this moment. “Sure thing.”

The little side room has gained another bag of Poohs and a stack of flowers since they’ve come backstage. Ghislain stands there with Yuzu’s extra suitcase, waiting. After ten minutes, he realizes he might have to wait a while—possibly until after the press conference. He’s too restless to just stand there, so he grabs one of the bags and starts sorting. Someone will have to do this. It might as well be him. Since he can’t hug Yuzu, or rewind time, or fix an injured foot, or even figure out what’s going on in his own life.

Ghislain has helped sort gifts for Yuzu before, and he knows how it goes. One pile for cards, one for stuffed animals, separate out the ones that need to be cleaned, and if any look extra special, save so Yuzu can take a look at them. It goes fast, once you get into a rhythm, even if there are a lot. And there seem to be more every year.

Ghislain is starting on his second bag when he hears someone walk into the room. He looks up and sees Yuzu, hesitantly stepping through the door.

“Oh,” Yuzu says, moving backwards. “Sorry, you don’t have to—“

Ghislain shakes his head, standing up. “No, I want to.” He holds out his arms. “Come here.”

Yuzu practically runs into the hug, his fingers digging into the back of Ghislain’s jacket. Ghislain holds him tight, like he can squeeze the sadness out of him. He can feel Yuzu tremble in his arms, his breaths high and shuddering. They hug for as long as Ghislain feels Yuzu can possibly stand it. When they let go, Yuzu wipes his face on his sleeve, sniffling.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Ghislain says. “I promise.”

“But,” Yuzu says, and lets it hang in the air.

“No, it is,” Ghislain says. “I know you don’t feel it, but you did so well today, okay? You fought hard. A whole lot of people wish their worst days were a silver medal.”

“I’m not lot of people,” Yuzu pouts. It’s the sort of thing that would sound sharp and petulant in a different setting; today, it just sounds watery and sad.

“I know that,” Ghislain says. “But I see you working hard, giving it your all no matter what, and I think you did well. You’ll do better next time, but—this is okay.”

“Okay,” Yuzu says, reluctantly. Ghislain isn’t sure if anything got through to him at all. For the millionth time, he wishes for the perfect words to say, the ones that would snap Yuzu out of his feelings of inadequacy. 

“Can I—stay here?” Yuzu asks, after a while. “I don’t want to go talk more.”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says. “But if you stay, you have to help me sort. We got four and a half bags left, a lot of people loved you today.”

The tip of Yuzu’s nose flushes pink. “Fine,” he says, faux-annoyed.

Sitting on the floor with Yuzu, rummaging through the bags and piling up gifts, Ghislain relaxes for the first time since he got to Boston. What’s done is done, and it didn’t turn out great, but it’s not the worst thing in the world. The worst thing would be if people stopped loving Yuzu, but that will never happen.

They get through all of the bags and are starting in on the flowers by the time Yumi appears in the doorway. She says something stern to Yuzu, and Yuzu replies in a pleading voice.

“Ok,” Yumi says, turning away.

“I tell her five more minutes,” Yuzu explains to Ghislain. “We almost done. Also—I have something for you.”

“Oh yeah? What is it?”

Yuzu’s gaze sweeps across the flowers. He picks up two bouquets, one of multicolored daisies and one of purple carnations. He hands the multicolored one to Ghislain with great ceremony, bowing a little. “Thank you for—help so much. I’m sorry I’m doing so bad, but thank you for helping.”

“You got nothing to apologize for,” Ghislain says. He feels so warm inside, holding the bouquet. “I’m proud of you. What’s the other bouquet for, your mom?”

Yuzu shakes his head. “Also for you. But, for Kikuchi.”

Ghislain’s heart pounds. He must be hearing wrong, or maybe Yuzu’s English is getting mixed up. “What?”

“I give you these ones, you give them to Kikuchi,” Yuzu explains patiently, as if talking to a small child.

“Why?” Ghislain feels like his face is burning. 

“I see you talk to him,” Yuzu says, eyes alight. “He will like, from you. It’s good.”

“And not from you?” Ghislain grasps at his last straw.

“I already give him one,” Yuzu says. “This one, for you.”

“Okay,” Ghislain says. He takes the flowers from Yuzu’s outstretched hands.

“He’ll be happy,” Yuzu says, with a smile impossible to classify, but which might be mischievous. Then he hugs Ghislain briefly, taking care not to squash the flowers, and leaves.

Ghislain looks down at the two bouquets in his arms. If he doesn’t give this one to Akira, Yuzu will know, which means Akira will know too. It would seem so rude, not the way to treat a friend. But if he _does_ give it to Akira… Ghislain shudders. It shouldn’t mean anything, to give your friend flowers. But there are still enough butterflies in Ghislain’s stomach that he wonders if it will mean something. And he’s afraid to find out. This feels like stepping too close to the edge, crossing a line.

“I come to get rest of bags.” It’s Akira’s voice, and Ghislain startles, looking up.

“Oh,” Ghislain says. “Okay.”

“Everything okay?” Akira asks, stepping into the room.

“Yeah,” Ghislain croaks.

There’s a long silence while Akira hoists a duffel bag onto his shoulder.

“I have something for you,” Ghislain finally blurts, when he can’t take it anymore.

Akira steps closer. “Oh?”

Ghislain holds out the carnations. “These are for you.”

Akira’s face turns a deep pink. His eyes go soft and uncertain as he reaches out to take the flowers. “Thank you,” he says quietly, looking down at the bouquet.

“Yuzu told me to give them to you,” Ghislain says. It’s a cop-out, he knows, but he can’t take the expression on Akira’s face, like it means more than just a bunch of flowers.

Akira looks up at that, finally. “Oh, really? Why?” His face goes back to normal, and Ghislain feels relieved.

“I couldn’t quite understand it,” Ghislain says. “But he said you would be happy.”

Akira smiles, small and gentle. “I am.”

The silence comes back, and with it Ghislain’s feeling of awkwardness. If Yuzu thought the flowers would make things smooth and easy between them, he was wrong.

“I am seeing you tomorrow, at the gala?” Akira asks.

Ghislain shakes his head. “I’m flying back tomorrow morning.” It’s true, but he knows it’s the wrong answer. He should be here, to keep Yuzu’s spirits up, to spend more time with the team and Akira. But he didn’t think of that when he booked the flight—he just thought of leaving before the crowds, and getting home with enough time to rest before he has to teach again on Monday.

Akira wrinkles his nose. “Okay. I will see you…soon.” The measured, drawn-out way he says _soon_ makes Ghislain realize it probably won’t be that soon after all.

“We’ll have to be in touch, about Yuzu’s recovery,” Ghislain says.

“Of course,” Akira says. He hugs Ghislain’s side with the arm that isn’t holding the flowers. “Fly safe.”

“You too,” Ghislain says. He walks down the hallway, flowers in hand. It feels oddly unfinished, a moment that should have ended differently, perhaps. Like winning silver instead of gold. Whatever was wrong, they’ll just have to try again. He didn’t say anything to Akira about how good it was to look after Yuzu together—maybe that was it. He pulls out his phone to text Akira about this, but Akira’s already beaten him to it:

_forget to say, thank you for your help with yuzu_   
_and for flowers again. wish they last to japan_

Ghislain’s face gets hot. He imagines Akira on that long flight back to Japan, carnations in his lap, and it seems like a beautiful thing. Never mind the impracticality of crushes and the distance and the way his feelings won’t fade. For one sweet, brief moment, he wants to be that important to Akira. He wants the flowers in a vase on Akira’s table, he wants Akira to look at them and smile.

_you’re welcome,_ he texts, almost absentmindedly. _glad we could help him together._ Then he heaves a sigh, puts the phone back in his pocket and heads for the shuttle. He needs his sleep before the flight tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find the CBC broadcast of Yuzu’s free skate at GPF 15 here, if you want to experience Ghislain’s embarrassment in real time: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=wpdE7C5p3zs


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Journal reading club, betting on Yuzu's quad loop, Brian Orser as the world's most annoying wingman, and a date that wasn't.

The summer starts slowly. It’s a gradual warming up from day to day, the air moving from springlike to steamy hot so smoothly it barely comes as a surprise. Ghislain’s summers are always pretty relaxed, and this one is no exception. He takes a week off in May and goes back to Montreal for a visit. He runs a three-week camp for kids under 10, teaching them the basics of single jumps. He cleans his tiny office, sorting through a mountain of papers. It’s a nice change of pace.

Most of his regular students aren’t around the club. They’re off at the ice shows, in Japan or in Canada, or on vacation. And Yuzu, of course, is recovering. He’s in Canada, but he barely comes to the club, getting the physiotherapist to come to him instead.

Nothing turned out as badly as they feared. Yuzu didn’t need surgery, just a long time off his feet, resting with the ligaments immobilized. According to Akira, who relays the reports he gets from Yuzu’s doctors to Ghislain, the ligament is healing slowly, but it is healing. Yuzu will skate again.

Just as he has in the past, Akira supplies Ghislain with detailed information about Yuzu’s injury. Ghislain gets messages sometimes that span the entire length of his phone, full of bone and ligament names he’s never heard before. Being Akira’s friend is like getting a crash course in anatomy.

Ghislain does his best to write back, to keep the conversation from being too one-sided. He doesn’t want a repeat of the last times Yuzu was injured, where he stopped replying because he didn’t know what to say. He wants to keep the conversation open. So he tells Akira about the summer camps and the offseason projects, and does his best to ask intelligent questions about Yuzu’s recovery. Ghislain knows a fair amount of things about the human body from teaching kids to jump for a decade and a half, but he hasn’t formally studied anatomy. Akira’s precise medical knowledge is a little over his head.

Despite Ghislain’s best efforts not to look like an idiot, at a certain point in the conversation Akira figures out that Ghislain is new to a lot of these concepts. Emails start appearing in Ghislain’s inbox with links to scientific studies. Akira must have gotten Ghislain’s email from Yuzu. Ghislain prints them out in his office and reads them on his break, sipping a cup of coffee and taking notes in the margins. It’s exciting to learn something new like this. He texts Akira about what he’s reading, and the resulting texts have twice as many exclamation marks and emojis as usual. Ghislain smiles over them. He knows how much fun it is to share your passion with someone else, and he’s glad he can do that with Akira.

Besides, it gives them something to talk about that moves them away from dangerous territory—compliments, worries, secrets, too many feelings. It shifts them onto safer ground. This way, they’re still friends, but more like work friends. Two people coming together to learn something and solve a problem. They’re back to what originally connected them—taking care of Yuzu—and Ghislain isn’t concerned about going too deep or being too forward. He’s just talking to a friend and colleague. _This is the way things should be,_ Ghislain thinks, highlighting a particularly interesting passage about ligament structure and snapping a picture to send to Akira.

As the students start to come back, Ghislain tests out a few of the things that he’s learning. A few of the kids balk—the juniors in particular are slow to adopt any change in training method—but a couple of them take to it quickly. Jun is having another growth spurt, his knees and shins aching constantly, so Ghislain gives him some ways to stretch based on his new anatomy lessons. It seems to help him jump a little easier, and it fills Ghislain with secondhand pride, satisfaction in being colleagues with Akira.

In June, Yuzu returns to the ice. Ghislain comes into the club one day and sees him tying his skates on the bench. His heart starts pounding, but he feigns nonchalance. It’s been too long since Yuzu was on ice that it hardly seems real to have him here again.

“Nice to see you back,” he says to Yuzu, as casually as he can.

Yuzu looks up with a faint smile. His face looks withdrawn, like he’s not quite here. “Nice to being back.”

“Take it easy, okay?” Ghislain says. “It’s been a while.”

Yuzu does—gently gliding across the ice, warming up his wobbly legs. It’s been two months since he skated, and his body seems to be sluggish, his feet getting in his own way. Ghislain does his best to tamp down the ache in his own heart, seeing Yuzu like this. It’ll come back. Yuzu just has to take some time.

It takes even more time than Ghislain was expecting. The time off ice, and the loss, seem to have brought Yuzu all the way back to square one. His legs warm up slowly, and jumps are even slower. Ghislain bites his lip as he watches Yuzu do a waltz jump, once, twice, three times, and then nothing at all. He does his best to drive the thought from his head, but it’s there in a little corner of his mind: what if Yuzu can’t come back this season after all?

Weeks pass with Yuzu working on doubles and singles, when he jumps at all. He looks increasingly frantic, no matter how many times Ghislain and the rest of the team remind him that he’s doing great, considering. Yuzu never wants any asterisks on his performance. Ghislain wonders if the problem is in his mind as much as his body, now. The longer he goes without jumping well, the more the image of a good jump must be clouding over, replaced by his struggles.

Brian and Tracy summon Ghislain to a meeting about Yuzu one afternoon.

“I’m really worried about him,” Brian admits. “I know he can do it, but it’s just not happening for him. I’m not sure what to say to him about it.”

Tracy nods. “His body looks fine, he’s getting muscle back, but that doesn’t seem to be translating to the ice. Is it a mental block, maybe?”

“Boston was really hard on him,” Ghislain says. “And he hasn’t skated at all since then. He must still be thinking about it.”

“These perfectionists, eh?” Brian sighs. “All right, well. We obviously still have things to help him correct in his technique, but we have to keep encouraging him as well. We can’t let him stay this worried. Ghislain, maybe you can say something to him?”

“Me?” Ghislain says. 

“Well, he’s stuck on his jumps, isn’t he? So maybe he needs to hear something from his jump coach.” Brian winks.

“All right,” Ghislain says hesitantly. It’s not that he doesn’t want to encourage Yuzu. It’s just—he’s not sure he’s all that good at it. In his experience, Yuzu believes whatever he wants to believe about himself, and the things Ghislain says to him go in one ear and out the other. But at this point, Ghislain will try anything.

He gets his chance one afternoon during lunch, when Yuzu walks past as Ghislain is chewing on a sandwich and reading another one of Akira’s articles. Yuzu stops to look closer at the papers spread across the table.

“You do homework?” Yuzu asks, his voice laughing.

Ghislain swallows his bite of sandwich. “Hey, you’re never too old to learn.”

Yuzu smirks. “What you reading?” He tilts his head to one side, as though it will make it easier to read English upside down and from four feet away.

“Just some studies about recovery for ligament destabilization in the ankle,” Ghislain says. “Akira sent it to me.”

Yuzu hums thoughtfully. He hops up on the other side of the booth where Ghislain is sitting. “Do you—like to reading it? I know lot of people, they think this is boring.”

“Oh no, this is real interesting,” Ghislain says. “A little hard, but that’s okay. I love learning about this stuff. Helps me help you guys jump.”

Yuzu nods. He fiddles with the corner of a page. “I’m reading lot about jumping so I can get better, but—“ He sighs heavily. “It’s not working, I don’t think.”

“Maybe that’s not what you should be reading about,” Ghislain says, acting on impulse.

Yuzu looks up, startled. “What?”

“Do you feel like—there are a lot of things on your mind? Are you still sad sometimes? Or nervous?”

Yuzu nods. “Yeah, because I’m not—I can’t jump. So it’s bad.”

“What if it’s the other way around, though?” Ghislain asks. “Maybe your head is holding your body back. Maybe you could read about how to overcome that instead.”

Yuzu nods again. He sits there for a few minutes, staring into the distance, like he’s fully absorbing Ghislain’s words. “Yeah,” he says after a while. “Maybe.”

“You’re doing okay, all right?” Ghislain can’t help but add. “I know it’s hard to come back. But I promise, you’re going to be fine.”

“Yeah,” Yuzu says again. He flashes a smile at Ghislain. “I have to go to physiotherapist. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” Ghislain says. He goes back to reading about the ankle, feeling a weight lift off his heart.

****

Things get a little easier in the next few weeks. Ghislain and Brian and Tracy keep encouraging Yuzu whenever they can, helping him gently and boosting his confidence. And gradually, Yuzu’s jumps return, one by one, triples followed by quads. 

The other skaters return as well, back from their vacations and their ice shows and ready to get back to the daily grind. There are choreography meetings, and new jumps to play around with, and the hum of excitement around the club again. It’s like the first days back at school, when everyone is filled with energy about the new season. Ghislain loves August.

Yuzu’s latest obsession is the quad loop. He’s hoping to put it into his short and free programs, and he’s working at it determinedly, despite Brian’s not-so-gentle suggestion that he focus on his already-stable jumps. Ghislain texted Akira about it—both the jump and the butting of heads—and Akira responded with four laughing emojis and a request to learn more about the mechanics of a quad loop. Whenever Ghislain gets a spare minute, he’s typing something up to give Akira a basic idea. It’s hard—he’s used to demonstrating these things with his arms or drawing diagrams over video stills—but it’s a fun challenge, nonetheless.

Halfway through August, Ghislain and Brian hole up in Brian’s office so the two of them can plan out the coming season. They shuffle around a heap of papers, sifting through competition schedules and training camp dates and requests for skaters to visit.

“Let’s look at the Grand Prix,” Brian says, wiggling a long sheet of paper out from under a stack that threatens to topple onto him. “See if I need you to come with.”

“Looks busy,” Ghislain says. “But it seems like we don’t have more than two students per stop this year.”

“Yeah, the way it’s laid out, I should be good on my own. Won’t get much sleep, but. That’s the Grand Prix for you. And then, let’s see, the Final…if by some miracle everyone gets in, then I might need some help there.”

“What about Nationals?” Ghislain asks.

“Canadians for sure I’ll need your help. Maybe Korean nationals too. Japanese and Spanish nationals we’re cutting it close, but Tracy will go with Javi if I need backup.”

Ghislain nods.

“I’m sending you to Junior Worlds, sorry,” Brian says. “It’s just too close to seniors, I need to be here.”

“And senior Worlds too?” It’ll be tiring, but Ghislain can do it.

Brian shakes his head. “No, you deserve a break after dealing with the kids.”

Ghislain does some rapid calculations. “So that means I won’t be at a competition with Yuzu at all this season.” 

Brian looks puzzled. “Yeah, but you’ll have plenty of time to go over things with him before and after.” He looks down at his sheet of paper. “Oh, wait, I forgot about fucking World Team Trophy. You can go to that, Raj and I are already booked to go to Bali.”

“That’s in _April,_” Ghislain squawks, his voice getting too loud all of a sudden.

“Yeah, and?” Brian is looking even more confused. “Is there some kind of problem with April? Do you have plans?”

Ghislain rapidly shakes his head. “No, I just—“ It’s embarrassing, that it means this much to him. But the idea of not seeing Akira for eight months... “Forget it. I was just, you know—“

Brian looks like he’s about to roll his eyes.

“I was just hoping I might get to see Akira sooner than April,” Ghislain says, all in a rush.

“Yuzu’s trainer Akira?” Brian asks, and Ghislain nods. “You guys did hit it off pretty good. But that’s the skating life, eh? I haven’t seen Boitano in almost a year. You get busy.”

“Yeah,” Ghislain agrees. “We—talk a lot, though.” He keeps his eyes cast down, avoiding Brian’s gaze.

Brian narrows his eyes suddenly. “Wait a minute. I know you. This is different.”

“Different than what?” Ghislain says, attempting to sound nonchalant. It’s not very effective, because the end of the question comes out an octave higher than the beginning.

“You’re into him,” Brian says.

“No I’m—“ Ghislain’s voice sounds like a chicken squawking. He clears his throat. “What does it matter?”

“Oh _boy,_ Brian says, leaning his chin on his hands. “Wow, this explains so much. I honestly thought I’d be dead before you ever found someone you were into again.”

“Oh, sure, you and your jokes,” Ghislain grumbles. “Anyway, it’s not news, because I’m not going to be into him much longer.”

“Why not?” Brian says. “He seems like a good guy. I guess if you feel like it would make things awkward with Yuzu…”

“I think Yuzu knows,” Ghislain admits. “He gave me some of his flowers to give to Akira. At Worlds.”

Brian makes a kind of gleeful snort, clapping his hands over his mouth. “You never tell me anything anymore.”

“That’s because it doesn’t matter,” Ghislain says. _And because you love gossip and drama like you’re starring in a teen movie,_ he doesn’t say.

“Well, why not?” Brian asks. “I still don't get what the problem here is.”

“I’m too old to have a long-distance relationship,” Ghislain says. “And I’m not going to move to Japan. And I like my work, and I like being by myself. So it doesn’t matter how I feel about him. Maybe I like him, but we can only be friends.”

“Who says you have to date?” Brian says. “You see the guy twice a year, you hook up with him then, bam, there you go. It's perfect.”

“I couldn’t just hook up with him,” Ghislain starts. It brings him up short, realizing how true that is. “It’s more than that. We’re so close, and—it would have to be serious, if anything happened. So it can’t ever happen.”

Brian stares at him for a long time. “Really? That’s it?”

“What do you mean, that’s it?.”

“You’re really not even going to give it a shot?” Brian says. “What if he likes you too? He talks to you all the time, and he seems like he really cares about you. I bet he’s into you.”

Something wild and sweet slams through Ghislain’s chest, hearing those words. It’s gone in an instant. “Doesn’t matter.”

Brian groans. “You’re hopeless.”

“What do you want me to say, that I’d throw my life away for some guy who lives in Japan who I don’t even know that well? I’m too old to have some kind of big dramatic passion.”

“You know that I was forty-seven when I met Raj,” Brian says, his voice going softer. “And it was just as amazing as it was every other time. It was better, honestly, because I wasn’t worried about where my life was going, or if we would be the same people tomorrow we were today. Everything else was already settled. I could just—love him. Appreciate him. And it felt so pure, to care for someone like that.”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says, a little more impatiently than he meant to. He can’t help it—he’s happy for Brian, of course he is, and what he and Raj have is genuinely sweet, the kind of love Brian deserves after some shitty men in his past. But imagining something like that between Ghislain and Akira feels as distant from reality as growing wings and flying through the sky. Brian’s forgotten what all single people know—it’s only cold comfort that can be drawn from someone else’s happy ending.

But for all he’s out of step with the single life, Brian does know Ghislain better than almost anyone, so he moves on. “All I’m saying is, you’re not too old for this if you want it. And before you say it doesn’t matter again—it could matter. There’s a lot of space between throwing away your life for a guy and being alone forever. Don’t write it off completely.”

“You’re such an optimist,” Ghislain says. “I bet he doesn’t even like me that way.”

Brian sighs impatiently. “Fine, if you say so.”

“It’s not like I’ll tell him ‘just friends,’” Ghislain says, trying to mollify him. “I’ll just—keep it as it is right now. But I won’t close the door.”

“Good,” Brian says, faux-stern. He drops his voice. “You know I just want you to be happy, right? You’re my friend, whatever you want to do I’ll support you. Even if I think it’s stupid.”

“Thanks for that,” Ghislain says, slapping at Brian’s shoulder. “No, but seriously, it’s fine. I know you mean well.”

“And if I need help with Yuzu at a competition, I promise I’ll ask you first. So you can see Akira.”

Ghislain’s heart flips. “Thanks.” He clears his throat. “So, do we need to take care of anything else here?”

Brian shakes his head. “We’re good.” He pushes back his chair. “I’m going to get caught up on some email, I’ll see you later.”

“See you,” Ghislain says. He shuts the door to Brian’s office gently and walks down the hall, prying his phone out of his pocket as he goes. There’s a new message from Akira: _can’t sleep and try to read new article. too interesting. send me more boring article next time so i get more sleep_

Ghislain laughs out loud in the middle of the hallway. _you should try to read the new isu communications for this year. they almost put me to sleep_

He waits a few minutes, standing in the hallway, but no new messages appear. He shoves his phone back into his pocket and continues the walk to his car, still smiling to himself.

Brian’s words echo in his mind: _I bet he’s into you too._ Ghislain shakes his head. There can’t be any space for that. They won’t even see each other until April, anyway. He has to focus on the other stuff—like the document on jumps and their impact on the feet that he’s writing up for Akira. It’ll be a useful resource for Yuzu, and other students too. These are the things that are really important, not some imaginary feeling.

****  
Being a jump coach to Cricket’s elite athletes is a strange job. There’s only so much Ghislain can teach them—their basic technique was formed years ago, when they were little kids learning singles and doubles. He can’t take any credit for Yuzu’s beautiful running edge or the effortless way he rotates. It’s not like Ghislain hasn’t helped Yuzu, or any of the other athletes he’s worked with. There are endless ways they’ve worked together, putting techniques to the test. But in so many ways, the work is Yuzu’s, not Ghislain’s.

Still, when Yuzu becomes the first man to land a quadruple loop in competition at the Autumn Classic, Ghislain feels a swell of professional pride unlike anything he’s experienced before. _I helped him do that._

Yuzu’s loop technique has always been stellar—Ghislain shows videos of it to his younger students working on doubles and triples—but it reaches its fullest potential in the quad. It’s a miracle of kinesthetics and speed, appearing seemingly out of nowhere with a flick of his legs. It has immense height and distance, like all of Yuzu’s jumps, and it adds another weapon to Yuzu’s already fearsome arsenal. 

But Yuzu runs into problems with it almost immediately. At Skate Canada, the loop is recalcitrant, and messing it up throws the rest of his programs off. It’s tough to watch, although Yuzu often struggles this early in the season. He comes back to the rink on fire with regret, ready to train even more fervently.

Brian takes a different view of these early-season struggles. He’s convinced that the loop is hindering Yuzu’s performances, and that he can succeed without it. Ghislain witnesses a few of their power struggles, Brian gesturing in an attempt to calm Yuzu, Yuzu stalking away from the conversation to drill loop entries out of spite. Ghislain stays out of it. He agrees with Brian that Yuzu doesn’t need the loop to win, and he doesn’t want to undermine Brian’s authority. But he also understands that Yuzu needs to continue his quest upwards, always trying something new and taking on new challenges each season. And selfishly, he doesn’t want Yuzu to take the loop out of his programs—they’ve worked so hard on it, and it’s such a beautiful jump.

So he’s pleased when Yuzu comes to him a week before NHK and says, “Loop is staying, I have to practice more.”

“You finally convinced Brian?” Ghislain says.

Yuzu nods. “I make him see, I need for Olympics. So I do it now, I make mistake now, I don’t make mistake in Olympics.”

“That’s smart,” Ghislain says, patting his shoulder. “But there’s no reason you can’t do it perfect at NHK, yeah? So let’s see it again.”

_when i close my eyes i see quad loops,_ Ghislain texts Akira later that night.

Akira sends a row of laughing emojis. _i hope that mean yuzu is ready_

_i think so,_ Ghislain replies. _yuzu will be first to land a 4l in the gp series at nhk_

_i hope you right,_ Akira says. _you owe me if you wrong_.

Ghislain considers it progress that his heart only jolts for a second when he reads that message. _if i’m right you owe me_

The men’s short is at an ungodly hour of the morning, like usual. Ghislain is getting far too old for this, he thinks as his alarm blares. But Yuzu is sharp and focused, having fun like he wasn’t able to at Skate Canada. He steps out of the loop, unfortunately, but the rest of the performance is much better. The quad sal-triple toe combo in particular is gorgeous, high and smooth with a dream of a running edge. 

Ghislain falls asleep again after Yuzu’s scores are announced and wakes up to a message from Akira. _step out doesn’t count as ratified, i ask_

Ghislain snorts. _still one more program left, you’ll see_

And the next day, sure enough, Yuzu lands the quad loop right at the beginning of the program. Not just _lands_ it—executes it beautifully, with glorious entry and exit speed. Ghislain grabs his phone. _see, I told you_

The reply comes a few hours later, but when it does it makes him laugh. _ (⌣_⌣”) fine, i owe you_

It’s a day off, so as soon as he recovers some sleep, Ghislain spends the rest of it writing a long email to Akira about the articles he’s read lately. He starts it with: _Before you owe me, I owe you this._ It’s satisfying, putting together all his thoughts about what he’s been reading. When he’s done, he spends the rest of the day lounging and watching TV. All this reading is good for him, he thinks. Gives him something to do with his brain when he’s not coaching. 

When Yuzu returns to the club, slightly jetlagged and officially qualified for the Grand Prix Final, he walks right over to Ghislain. His mouth is twisted up on one side, smirking and catlike.

“Very nice job,” Ghislain says. “I watched, your jumps looked great.”

Yuzu disregards this. “Kikuchi say to tell you, if I land both loop in the final, he not owe you anymore.”

Ghislain chuckles nervously, his face going hot. “Oh, really. I guess if he says so.”

Brian is suddenly much closer than Ghislain remembers him being. “What’s all this?”

“Ghislain bet Kikuchi I am first man to land quad loop in a Grand Prix,” Yuzu says, before Ghislain can say anything. “And obviously he is right, so now they bet again.”

Brian’s knowing smile is exactly as smug and feline as Yuzu’s. “I see.”

Ghislain shoots Brian a pleading look. _Please don’t tease me about my crush in front of Yuzu._

Thankfully, Brian backs off. “Well, I guess we better get back to work then. Or not, as the case may be.” Yuzu laughs uproariously at this, slapping his leg, and then skates off to the other end of the rink to get warmed up.

“So you’re making bets,” Brian says to Ghislain in a low voice. “Maybe the loser should have to buy dinner for the both of you.”

“Can we please just work, oh my god,” Ghislain says.

Brian pats his shoulder. “All right. Guess we have to set a good example for the kids, eh?”

****

Yuzu lands both his quad loops at the Grand Prix Final, putting Ghislain back in Akira’s debt. His short program scores three points higher than at NHK—still lower than Yuzu wants but high enough to put the other competitors virtually out of reach. His free program is still very much a work in progress. It’s the new layout, Ghislain knows, plus the exhaustion of competing three times in two months. 

Ghislain spends a long time trying to come up with a bet for Japanese Nationals. He still hasn’t thought of one a week beforehand, but it turns out not to matter. Yuzu has the flu, and has to withdraw.

_pray this is only one disaster this year,_Akira texts.

_hope so too,_ Ghislain replies. It sounds awful, but he feels a little better about the rest of this season now. It seems like Yuzu is due for at least one terrible thing per season, and this is pretty mild, comparatively. At least they’re getting it out of the way early. He doesn’t say this to Akira, though—he’s afraid it might sound callous.

Yuzu is recovered and back on track by the time Four Continents rolls around. He’s at least as excited about getting to investigate the Olympic arena as he is about the competition itself. He spends part of one session trying to explain what’s different about the sound in certain arenas, and how that affects the way he edits his music. Ghislain isn’t sure he’d understand Yuzu even if they were both speaking Japanese—the whole concept of sound design goes way over his head—but he listens anyway.

Ghislain has forgotten all about the bets until he gets a message from Akira a few days beforehand. _if he wins, you owe me_.

_i don’t like my odds,_Ghislain replies, _but i accept_

Ghislain has never been more disappointed to win a bet. Yuzu’s never won Four Continents, which seems like it can’t possibly be true, and although he gives it his all here, some ill-timed mistakes cost him too many points. His free is a masterpiece of calculation, layout changed on the fly after he pops his second quad sal. Ghislain’s mouth flies open when Yuzu ends his program with a triple axel, clawing back as many points as he can. But judges don’t give out medals for spur-of-the-moment calculations, and Nathan’s jumps are much cleaner, leaving Yuzu with silver. 

Yuzu seems to have found the whole thing fun more than anything. “I can’t wait to beat Nathan,” he tells Ghislain when he gets back to the club.

“Oh yeah?” Ghislain grins. “You’re going to do it at Worlds?”

Yuzu nods so hard Ghislain worries it’s hurting his neck. “Yeah. At Worlds, I beat him, I beat Javi, I beat Shoma. I take my gold back.”

“That’s the spirit,” Ghislain says. “So you’re going to work on your quad sal now, then.”

Yuzu groans, tipping his head back to the sky, but after a few seconds of sulking he straightens up and nods again. “Yeah.”

Ghislain schedules a few extra sessions with Yuzu at the end of February to make up for the time they’ll miss while Ghislain is at Junior Worlds. He’s confident that Yuzu will be fine without him, but it’s still annoying to have to interrupt his training time. Taipei is beautiful, though, a nice break from the endless Canadian winter, and the competition is strong and lively. The kids from Cricket put in a good showing—Jun places fifth, Conrad thirteenth, and Ghislain is beaming with pride. He hopes this means good things for the seniors at Worlds, too.

_i don’t want to bet on yuzu winning,_Ghislain messages Akira. _i want him to win too badly._

_me too,_ Akira says. _maybe we bet on something else?_

Ghislain thinks for a while, until he finally hits on something that shouldn’t affect Yuzu’s chances. _if he lands 4s3t in the free finally, you owe me_

Akira sends back a thumbs up.

Almost as soon as he lands at Worlds, Akira sends Ghislain pictures and updates: Yuzu’s practices, the rinks, the streets of Helsinki. It makes Ghislain’s heart ache, a sharp pang of longing. He knows it’s no use wishing for things to be different—and honestly, he could use the rest instead of a journey to another competition. But still, he feels left out. Of the competition, of course. At least Helsinki is in a better time zone to watch than NHK. Ghislain flips to CBC with anticipation on the morning of the short program. He’s got a good feeling about this one.

But when Yuzu bobbles his combo in the short, Ghislain’s heart sinks. The scores come up even lower than Ghislain feared when he saw the mistake—there’s a mysterious deduction that he can’t quite figure out—and he turns off the TV, a sick, gnawing feeling in his chest. Yuzu wants to win this thing so badly, and he’ll have to fight from behind now. A small, terrible part of Ghislain is suddenly grateful he isn’t in Finland. He wouldn’t know what to do about this, how to help Yuzu get past it.

_feel like i jinxed his combo,_ Ghislain texts Akira glumly. _i take back the bet, i just want him to win_

_he still has chance,_ Akira responds a while later. _he is mad, he will fight hard. he do better when he fighting and chasing._

Akira seems to have unending stores of optimism, Ghislain marvels. Where does it all come from? It’s not like Ghislain doesn’t believe in Yuzu. But he gets so caught up in the competition, sometimes it’s hard to stay positive. What Yuzu does is so difficult it seems basically impossible on a good day. If Ghislain were in Yuzu’s skates right now, he’d lie down on the ice and cry instead.

_i trust you,_ Ghislain texts back. _you usually seem right about these things_

_you’ll see_

Ghislain waits eagerly for updates during the off day, but they’re few and far between. _practice not important,_ Akira’s message reads when Ghislain asks. _most important is confidence, we give yuzu power (ง •̀_•́)ง_

Ghislain smiles. He copies and pastes the emoticon from Akira’s text and adds _fighting_, the thing Yuzu yells when they do run-throughs. He’s rewarded with a beaming smile in emoji form.

And the next morning, when Ghislain turns on the TV just in time to see the final group take the ice for warmups, he finally feels like he understands what that phrase means. Yuzu looks ready to fight. Ghislain feels just a little calmer, seeing that expression on his face. It’s the look he wears right before all the best stuff happens.

Yuzu’s the first skater up. Ghislain lets out a long, slow breath as he watches Yuzu shake hands with Brian and push off from the boards. Yuzu settles his shoulders delicately, taking his starting position. And then, with the ease of a leaf falling from a tree, Yuzu gives one of the most perfect skates Ghislain has ever seen.

Every jump touches down with impeccable lightness. Every motion of his arms has a thousand meanings. Ghislain can hardly believe his eyes. This program has been beautiful all season, but it’s also been flawed, cracking and wavering at certain key moments. But today, it all comes together. Even—Ghislain roars with delight—even the quad sal-triple toe combo.

_This better break a world record,_ Ghislain thinks when Yuzu finishes. And sure enough, when the free program score comes up, it’s so big Ghislain can barely process it. Yuzu yelps onscreen, sandwiched between the stunned faces of Brian and Tracy. Tracy’s hair is tousled in surprise. Ghislain has never wanted to be somewhere as much as he does in this moment.

Later on, after Ghislain has had another cup of coffee, finished reading the paper, and used his excess adrenaline to start cleaning all the junk off his kitchen counter, the messages from Akira start pouring in. Pictures of Yuzu at the victory ceremony, hugging everyone backstage, a closeup of his medal gleaming against the green and blue sparkles on his chest like sunlight glinting on an ocean wave. A lot of emoticons that are crying, cheering, blushing. At the very end, a text that says simply, _i don’t forget, i owe you_

Ghislain grins. _we’ll settle it in 3 weeks_

_3 weeks?!?!?!?_

Did Ghislain forget to tell him? _i’m coming w/yuzu & tracy to wtt_

_＼（＾▽＾）／＼（＾▽＾）／＼（＾▽＾）／_

Ghislain has to put the phone down to laugh properly. _see you soon_

****

World Team Trophy is an odd hodgepodge of a competition, a mix between serious and playful, team unity and individual goals. Ghislain knows Yuzu must care about it, because Yuzu cares about every competition, but in the grand scheme of things it barely matters at all. He hopes Yuzu can put aside his constant need to conquer and just enjoy competing with his friends.

Ghislain himself feels incredibly relaxed about World Team Trophy. He doesn’t have any of the weird jitters he had before Boston, either about Yuzu competing or about seeing Akira. He’s just going to have fun.

Being at practice without Brian is strange. Ghislain feels oddly intimidated, being in charge, like he’s going to screw something up. At least he has Tracy with him. As soon as they let Yuzu on the ice, he immediately starts drilling lutzes, testing out his triple first before going through the motions for a quad. Maybe Ghislain was right to be intimidated. Yuzu clearly isn’t taking it all that easy.

There’s a tap at Ghislain’s shoulder. He turns around and finds himself very close to Akira’s beaming face.

“Hello,” Akira says, moving in for a hug. Ghislain, caught off guard, is squished against Akira’s shoulder, but manages to bring his arms up to hug back. Akira’s jacket smells like leaves and cool air. It’s a slightly longer hug than Ghislain is used to from Akira.

“I think, we don’t see each other for too long,” Akira says when they pull apart. His face is bright and mischievous, like they’re sharing a secret. “So I hug for too long. Hmm?”

Ghislain chuckles absently, smiling and nodding to show it was all right. “It’s—good to see you again.” It’s so good he can hardly stand it. 

“I don’t forget, I owe you,” Akira says. “Dinner after short or after free? Or both, do I owe you both?” He leans his elbows on top of the boards and smiles at Ghislain expectantly.

Ghislain feels like the top of his head is going to blow off. No matter what he does, somehow he ends up here, jittery and too fond, his crush like a cold he can’t shake. Being in Akira’s presence is like basking in the warm glow of a lamp, and Ghislain can’t get enough, can’t stop turning his face towards that light. Going to dinner will be wonderful. It will also be agony.

“Maybe just after the short,” Ghislain says. “I think we’re having a Team Cricket dinner after the free.” It’s true, but it’s also an excuse. Ghislain wants to minimize the danger here, keep things as generically friendly as possible.

“Ok,” Akira says. His smile fades slightly, flattening into a more neutral expression.

“You’re invited to Team Cricket dinner, obviously,” Ghislain says. “Unless Yuzu doesn’t want you there.” He pretends not to notice how quickly Akira perks up. “Just, you can’t owe me for that one. That one is funded by Brian.”

“Good,” Akira says. “We have lot to catch up on. Also I worry maybe I’m not Team Cricket—“

“You never need to worry about that,” Ghislain says. “You’re on the team.” The warm smile from Akira in response makes Ghislain’s stomach flutter. He sighs heavily and turns back to watch Yuzu running through his short program.

The short the next day is a bit of a disappointment. After the wear and tear of a long season, Yuzu is a mess. Ghislain holds his arms open the second he steps off the ice. Yuzu, sweaty and frustrated, tries to pull away, but Ghislain hugs him firmly.

“It’s okay,” Ghislain tells him as they walk to the kiss and cry. “I know it don’t feel good, but you picked the right competition to mess up.”

“It’s…anniversary of Prince’s death,” Yuzu pants. “I want to do really good for—“

“Prince will understand,” Ghislain says. Yuzu gives him a slightly skeptical look, which is all that statement deserves.

Once they get into the kiss and cry, where Team Japan has enough props to stock a party store, Yuzu cheers up. He still winces when they announce his score, but the rest of the team waving flags and imitating the finger-snapping from his step sequence makes him laugh. When all’s said and done, he winds up in seventh place.

“You’ll get ‘em tomorrow,” Ghislain says, clapping Yuzu on the back. Yuzu was the last skater, and now that the short program is finished Ghislain can feel his heart fizzing in anticipation. As they walk backstage, Ghislain keeps glancing around for Akira. He tries to act normal, not to walk too quickly, but his limbs feel jerky and uncoordinated.

Akira is waiting off to the side of the skaters’ area, near Yuzu’s big gold suitcase. As soon as Ghislain and Yuzu appear, he grins. He explains something to Yuzu in Japanese, gesturing towards Ghislain and handing off the suitcase to Yuzu.

“Okay, ready?” Akira says. Yuzu calls something after them in Japanese, but Akira ignores it.

“Ready,” Ghislain says. “Where are we going?”

“Do you like noodles?” Akira asks. “I know good place near here.”

“Sure, who doesn’t?”

Akira laughs. They walk past rooms full of skaters packing up gifts and teams huddled together in discussion. At the end of the hallway is a door to the parking lot. Akira reaches it first and holds it open, gesturing for Ghislain to go ahead.

Ghislain walks through, a joke on the tip of his tongue. But he catches Akira’s eye as he passes, and the sincerity on Akira’s face makes him swallow his words. Brian’s voice echoes in his head: _I bet he’s into you._ Forty-eight hours ago, Ghislain would have said that was crazy. But every kind gesture and look from Akira makes him more and more confused. Is this a date? How is he supposed to tell?

The outside air feels impossibly warm for April, after the cold of the rink. Ghislain unzips his jacket to feel the spring breeze. They walk past rows of cars and out through a side gate to the little alley behind the arena. Akira walks with purpose, taking long strides, and Ghislain has to hurry to keep up.

A few minutes later, they reach a little restaurant with a faded red awning, tucked in between a bank and a convenience store. A bell on the door rings when they push it open.

“Ohayou,” Ghislain says. The hostess looks at him blankly, then spots Akira behind him and begins speaking in crisp, businesslike Japanese. Barely waiting for Akira’s answer, she leads them to a small table off to the side, near an enormous potted tree. 

As soon as they sit down, Akira starts laughing. “What?” Ghislain demands.

“Ohayou mean good morning,” Akira splutters. “It’s six pm.”

Ghislain puts his head in his hands. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay, you try to be polite,” Akira says. “It’s nice, I think.”

“You’re going to have to help me with the menu,” Ghislain says. “I can’t read Japanese at all.”

“Don’t worry, I pick what is good,” Akira says. He beckons the waiter, who’s hovering nearby. After he orders, he leans back in his chair, exhaling and reaching for his glass of water.

There’s a silence, at first comfortable, but stretching out long enough to start feeling awkward. Ghislain looks up from his folded hands, resting on the table, to meet Akira’s eyes. It’s a mistake; Akira sits up slightly and leans forward, like he’s waiting for Ghislain to say something.

“Yuzu was worried about his performance because it’s the anniversary of Prince’s death today, I guess,” Ghislain says, the first thing that comes to mind.

“He tell me, yes,” Akira says. “Was he sad after—that?”

Ghislain nods. “I tried to tell him Prince would understand, but I don't think that helped at all. I never know what to say when he’s upset about his skating.”

“Most important to just—say something, I think,” Akira says. “Even if he stay sad, he needing to know we are not upset. If we’re quiet…he think he disappoint us.”

“Does he really think he could do anything on the ice to disappoint us?” Ghislain can’t help but ask. “I mean, after all this time. Doesn’t he know that we care about him and we’re always proud of him?”

“This thing is hard to know,” Akira says, with unexpected fervor. “From outside, easy to see, but inside, hard to know other people’s feelings. Even if you think you know, hard to trust.” His voice falters slightly at the end, and he looks down at the table.

“Yeah,” Ghislain says absently. It feels like they’re in deep water now, somewhere uncharted and dangerous. Is Akira talking about them?

The dinner arrives just then, mercifully, two enormous steaming bowls. Enticing smells of meat and noodles waft through the air as the waiter sets the bowls down. Ghislain scoops up a spoonful of glistening broth, blowing on it gently, and lets it slide down his throat. “Mmm,” he groans.

“I tell you, I pick the good stuff,” Akira says smugly.

“You weren’t kidding,” Ghislain says. He focuses all his attention on twining a clump of noodles around his chopsticks. The ramen hits the spot, after a long day of competition. For a while, the only sounds are slurping and chewing.

“So,” Akira says, softly. Ghislain glances up. Akira’s put down his chopsticks and spoon and is kneading his left hand with his right thumb. He looks thoughtful. Ghislain’s heart starts to gallop. _This is it,_ he thinks.

“What?” Ghislain asks, after a minute goes by and Akira still hasn’t said anything else.

“So,” Akira says, in a slightly firmer tone. “I really like your writing on the jumps, and how they impact the body. I’m going to conference for sports therapy in June, can I share with people there?”

All at once, Ghislain understands how Yuzu feels when he wins silver: flat and disappointed, like his heart is a balloon someone popped. “I guess,” he says irritably.

Akira frowns.

“I mean, it’s fine, I don’t really mind,” Ghislain says hastily. “Just make sure you say I wrote it, okay?”

“Of course,” Akira says. “Sorry I don’t say before. I put your name on, I give you credit.”

“Okay, that’s okay then,” Ghislain says. He turns back to his bowl, chasing the last of the noodles. By the time he’s almost done eating, he’s regained enough composure to ask Akira some more about the sports medicine conference, and they chat about it until the waiter comes by with the check.

Akira pays. “I am one who owes you,” he says, waving off Ghislain’s gesture of reaching into his pocket for his wallet. Ghislain had completely forgotten about that. Was that really all this dinner was? A friendly gesture to settle a bet?

“How far is it to the hotel?” Ghislain asks as they step outside. He’s all turned around—he hasn’t been to Tokyo enough to have any sense of where he is in the city.

“Ten, fifteen minute walk,” Akira says, starting off towards the left. He stops abruptly. “Unless you want cab?”

“No, walking’s fine,” Ghislain says. “I’m not so old yet.” Akira chuckles.

Their walk is silent, Ghislain ever so slightly behind Akira, not bothering to keep up with his strides. He’s not sure how he’s feeling. Disappointed? How could he be, when he didn’t want there to be feelings between them in the first place? If he’s disappointed in anything, it’s in himself for not protecting his heart. These wild swings of emotion, from elated to crushed in the blink of an eye—this isn’t how Ghislain wants to live his life. It’s exhausting.

It had really seemed like Akira was about to confess his feelings. But either Ghislain was wrong, or Akira talked himself out of it. Whatever the case, the fact that nothing happened settles it, once and for all. It doesn’t matter what other feelings are between them—they’re friends, plain and simple. End of story.

The next day, at the Team Cricket dinner, Ghislain resolves to talk to other people more than Akira. But they end up seated near each other anyway, drawn into conversation about the competition and a lively debate as to whether or not World Team Trophy scores should be treated more like Nationals scores. (Ghislain says no, Akira says yes.) It takes Ghislain a while to finish his dinner, he’s so caught up in talking to Akira.

Akira leaves the dinner early so he can give Yuzu a massage. He parts from the group with a vigorous wave, a deep bow, and a big bear hug for Ghislain. Ghislain claps Akira on the back, the way straight guys hug each other, like it’ll magically turn them into just friends.

Ghislain and Tracy are on the same floor in the hotel. When they get in the elevator together, Tracy furrows her brow, then says gently, “You and Akira seem really close. Is there anything—”

Ghislain can feel his face turning bright pink. “We’re just friends,” he says quickly.

“Hmm,” Tracy says, but mercifully drops it. They spend the rest of the elevator ride in silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to 4CC 2020 for finally getting Yuzu that gold (and maybe Ghislain another dinner ;-) )


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The best laid plans go awry....but sometimes that’s not as bad as it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content note: this chapter contains descriptions of Yuzu’s injury at the 2017 NHK Trophy, as well as some discussion of a car accident.

After World Team Trophy, Ghislain finally gets a vacation: a week and a half in Montreal with the family, and then a few days in Prince Edward Island on his own, enjoying the scenery and puttering around a bed and breakfast. Brian kept sending him links to resorts in Mexico and hotels in New Zealand when Ghislain was planning his trips, but Ghislain doesn’t like those kinds of vacations. Besides, he does enough flying around the world during the season. He’d rather stick closer to home. He stops off in Ottawa on the way back to do a jump clinic for high schoolers. By mid-May, he’s back in Toronto for the foreseeable future, with an even lighter summer schedule than usual.

Ghislain tells himself that a relaxing summer is a good thing. He certainly doesn’t want to be like Brian, heading to choreograph ice shows here and run training camps there. And he’s grateful that the students who can take time off are doing so. They deserve a break. He can’t really think of anything he’d want to do more than be at the club. And yet, as May turns to June, Ghislain finds himself feeling increasingly bored and restless.

He’s still messaging Akira, of course. It’s easier to be friends when it’s just messages, and he keeps the tone light and brisk. But Akira’s on the ice show tours with Yuzu, and is too busy to talk much. The journal-reading exchange is on hiatus for the summer. Ghislain tries to just read on his own, but it’s not as exciting as it was in the fall. Eventually, he puts them aside.

Briefly, Ghislain considers getting a new hobby—something that truly has nothing to do with skating. He goes to the library branch near his condo and scans the bulletin board by the new books display. Birdwatching in the parks, Latin dance lessons, Canadian history book club, bridge—god, is Ghislain really so old he’s considering playing bridge? But any new hobby will have to be abandoned when the season starts. He walks away with flyers he knows he’ll never look at. 

One Saturday, there are so few people in the club that it shuts down at noon. Ghislain is disappointed, but shakes himself. What kind of person is sad about leaving work early? He’s struck by a sudden impulse, born of childhood memories and idealized summer feelings. A few searches on his phone later, he’s driving over to Rogers Centre to catch the day game. Sitting high up in the stands, clutching an overflowing cup of beer, Ghislain watches the Blue Jays get clobbered by the Yankees and feels something akin to peace. At least when baseball is boring, it’s serving a larger purpose—batters warming up so they can hit a home run, pitchers throwing dozens of fouls before striking out a hitter. Maybe that’s all this summer is, then. The tap of a cleat against the dirt before stepping into the box. The long setup for something great.

The ice shows end in late June. Yuzu returns to the rink in July, full of energy and ready to start training for the Olympics. Ordinarily, Ghislain would try to hold Yuzu back a little more, keep his workload light. But this year, he’s just relieved to have something to do again.

Yuzu’s biggest goal for the summer is a greater success rate on the quad lutz. It’s a monster of a jump, huge and tilted, and Yuzu’s pure toe pick technique and delayed rotation make it even harder. Ghislain records it from half a dozen different angles, helping Yuzu see what’s working and what’s not. At the beginning of July, he’s landing it about thirty percent of the time. By the end of July, it’s closer to fifty-fifty. At this rate, it’ll be a hundred percent successful before the Grand Prix series even starts.

“Maybe he’s too ready,” Brian says to Ghislain one morning as they watch Yuzu run through the Seimei step sequence. Yuzu’s looking sharp, movements crisp and defined with the extra ease that comes when he’s not running jumps.

“What?” Ghislain says. “It’s good that he’s ready, isn’t it?”

Brian wrinkles his nose. “Season doesn’t start for two more months. Olympics aren’t till February. I wanted him to build up gradually. Him being this ready this early—it’s making me nervous.”

“Oh, I see,” Ghislain says. “Well, what are we going to do, tell him to be less ready?”

Brian laughs out loud at that, causing Yuzu to turn his head and come towards them, a confused look on his face. “Is it okay?” he asks.

“Oh yeah, it’s looking great,” Ghislain says. “But you can take it a little easier today. You’ve still got six, seven months before the Olympics, you don’t need to win them today.”

Yuzu shakes his head. “By Olympics, I will be even better.”

“Well, there you go,” Brian says to Ghislain after Yuzu skates away. “That’s that, I guess.”

****  
It’s not that simple, of course. Nothing ever is.

The beginning of the season passes like every other. Yuzu goes to Autumn Classic, and in typical early-season fashion, it’s both feast and famine. He breaks the short program world record, then messes up most of his jumps in the free. All Ghislain can do is laugh. 

This doesn’t stop Yuzu from burning with the fire to improve, as if the Olympics were tomorrow. Ghislain just rolls with it, doing his best to harness Yuzu’s energy.

“You don’t have to—“ Ghislain starts, one afternoon, and is interrupted by the loudest sigh he’s ever heard.

“I know, don’t have to win Rostelecom,” Yuzu says. “But have to—do lutz, have to practice compete with Nathan, have to do full layout.” He holds up his fingers one by one, counting off the list.

“Okay, okay, you got me,” Ghislain says, shoving at Yuzu’s shoulder. “Those are important goals. But I think you’re almost there, okay?”

Yuzu nods. “Almost. Almost.” He moves his arms a few times, checking his entry. “Yeah.”

When Yuzu takes the ice for the free at Rostelecom, a shiver of delighted anticipation buzzes through Ghislain like an electric current. Seimei starts, the whistling breath and the high note of the flute. And then, right on a heavy drumbeat, Yuzu thrusts his toe pick into the ice, flies through the air, and comes down with a lean—but still on one foot. His first quad lutz attempted in competition, and his first time landing it. Ghislain is so happy he barely watches the rest of the program. There goes Yuzu, checking off his goals one by one.

The next week, Ghislain is about to start class when his phone rings, blasting tinny chimes throughout the rink. He skates over to turn the ringer off, embarrassed he forgot to put it on silent, but answers when he sees it’s Brian.

“What’s up?” Ghislain asks. Brian is in Regina with the Skate Canada kids, so he isn’t calling just to chat. 

There’s a lot of background noise behind Brian. “Listen, don’t freak out, but I’m about to be admitted to the hospital.”

“What do you mean, don’t freak out?” Ghislain almost yells. “What’s wrong?”

“My stomach’s been hurting like a bitch all morning. They think it’s my gallbladder, they’re probably going to have to do surgery.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Ghislain says. “What do you need me to do?”

“Keep an eye on the kids, and let them know I’m going to be okay. Don’t let them worry too much.” Brian sighs heavily. “Lee’s here with Gabby so he’s going to take care of Jun for me. They’re not going to let me coach or travel for a little while after the surgery, so we might have to juggle.”

“Shit,” Ghislain says again. Brian places so much importance on being there for his students, the thought of having to step aside for a bit must be killing him. “I’ll go anywhere you need me to go.”

“Thanks,” Brian says. “I have to go, they’re taking me back. But it’s gonna be fine, okay?”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says. “Hang in there. Make Raj text me when you get out of surgery.”

Brian chuckles. “Of course.” There’s a beep, and Ghislain is left staring at his phone.

He can’t shake the nerves the rest of the day, his stomach churning whenever he thinks of Brian. He checks his phone whenever he gets a break, but there’s no update yet. Finally, at the end of class, there’s a text from Raj. _out of surgery. he’s ok _

_good, thank u. let me know if i can do anything_

Raj sends back a thumbs up emoji. Ghislain lets out a long, breathy sigh. After a few minutes, he pulls up a message to Akira.

_brian just had gallbladder surgery :( he’s okay but he can’t coach for a little while_

The reply arrives speedily. _sorry to hear, i send him good energy. please take care everyone!!!_ It makes Ghislain feel the tiniest bit better. 

Raj won’t let Brian come to the club while he’s recovering, which means he’s texting Ghislain every few minutes with thoughts and complaints. It’s better for him to rest, and he’s probably not feeling as well as he insists he is, but that doesn't mean it’s not also hilarious to see Brian forced to slow down. Brian when he can’t go to the club is like a dog trapped inside during a thunderstorm. As the week wears on, his messages get increasingly whiny.

It’s less funny when Javi goes to China with Lee and has a terrible competition, apparently due to food poisoning but surely affected by Brian’s absence as well. Placing sixth at Cup of China isn’t the end of the world by any means. But it’s a reminder of just how much Brian is the glue that holds the club together. Without him, they’re all a little off balance.

That Sunday, Ghislain gets another phone call from Brian.

“They’re still not letting me fly,” he says, sounding pained. “You’re going to have to go to NHK with Yuzu.”

Ghislain’s heart rate skyrockets. “You’re sure?”

“He needs to be with someone he trusts,” Brian says. 

“You’re right,” Ghislain says. “I just—“

“You’ll be fine,” Brian says, like he’s trying to convince both of them. “Yuzu’s in good hands when he’s with you. I know you can keep him out of trouble.”

“Okay,” Ghislain says. “I’ll do my best.”

Ghislain feels jittery for a long time after he hangs up. His mind is all over the place, bouncing from one thought to the other at dizzying speed. It’s an immense amount of responsibility, to be the sole coach in charge of Yuzu. What if something happens, like with Javi at Cup of China, and he has to deal with it all by himself? Although he won’t be totally alone—he’ll have the rest of Yuzu’s team to help him. And Akira.

Ghislain feels terrible about the thrill of anticipation that goes through him. Seeing Akira again shouldn’t be this exciting, not when he’s sworn to strive for mere friendship. It definitely shouldn’t be this exciting when the circumstances around it are so unfortunate. But Ghislain’s heart keeps tugging him towards Japan, eager for more time with Akira. 

He does his best to shove it aside, focusing on preparation instead. Over the next two days, he watches competition videos, keeping an eye on Brian. What does he do with Yuzu at the boards? How do they keep in touch throughout practices? Ghislain wants to mimic it as closely as possible.

They leave for Japan on Wednesday. Yuzu seems happy enough to have Ghislain traveling with him, although he’s also a little subdued. “Tired,” he explains, so fiercely that it casts doubt on the truth of the statement. Ghislain is tired too, drifting in and out of sleep for the first half of the flight. He knows he’ll be jetlagged when they land, too, but he’s counting on adrenaline to keep him up. They have a practice just a few hours later.

But Yuzu’s “tired” turns out to be a low-grade fever, and he skips the first practice in favor of resting up. Ghislain feels unmoored, not sure what to do with himself. He doesn’t see Akira, or anyone else on Yuzu’s team; they’ve all disappeared, either to help Yuzu or to rest themselves. After taking care of check-in paperwork and wandering around the hotel for a while, Ghislain decides to stop fighting it and go up to his room.

It takes him ages to fall asleep, even after he’s watched a judo match and half a goofy variety show and reviewed his notes on coaching and fluffed his pillows. Eventually, he decides to take a page out of Yuzu’s book. He visualizes himself standing at the boards, shaking Yuzu’s hand firmly, sending him off to a stellar performance. It doesn’t take long before he’s drifting off.

The team assembles at the rink the next evening: Ghislain, Akira, Ms. Kobayashi from the JSF, and a couple assorted managers. Seeing them all together brings home to Ghislain that he really is in charge. Everyone here is an expert on some aspect of Yuzu’s life, but he’s the only one who knows about the skating. He swallows hard.

Akira is his calm and cheerful self, though, greeting Ghislain with a warm if brief hug. “Nice to see you. It’s a good surprise, even if is bad reason.”

“Yeah, I wish Brian was better, but it’s nice to be here.”

“It’s always gold in the clouds,” Akira says, and laughs at what must be a look of total confusion on Ghislain’s face. “Inside a cloud is gold? They say something about this in English, I know.”

“Oh! Every cloud has a silver lining,” Ghislain says. “Silver, not gold.”

“Yuzu don’t like this part, because gold is better than silver,” Akira says. “He teach to me, the cloud has a gold lining.”

Ghislain laughs so hard he snorts. “That’s so Yuzu.” He glances around and sees Yuzu taking the ice, warming up with quick, fluid strides. “Oh shoot, I have to keep an eye on him.”

“Yuzu will be okay,” Akira says, but he joins Ghislain at the boards, the two of them leaning over to watch Yuzu run through his stroking exercises. Ghislain keeps glancing over at Akira, watching his eyes follow Yuzu and his face settle into that neutral look of focus.

“Has it been really busy for you lately?” Ghislain asks. “Feels like it’s ages since we read a paper together.”

“Yeah, I am too busy at clinic,” Akira says. “Stay too late, it’s not good for me.”

“Maybe there’s a paper you can read about that,” Ghislain quips. Akira chuckles, giving the joke more enjoyment than it deserves, like always. It makes Ghislain grin too. He did miss this. 

Yuzu circles back to the boards for a gulp of his energy drink. 

“Can I jump now?” he asks Ghislain. His eyes are bright and glittering, whether from fever or anticipation Ghislain doesn’t know.

“Sure,” Ghislain says. Yuzu’s probably warmed up enough by now. “Go for it.” Yuzu zooms away.

“I think we having JSF dinner after short program tomorrow,” Akira says. “You can come too, okay?”

“Sounds great to me,” Ghislain says. “You’re going to have to sit with me, though, I don’t really know anyone else that good.” 

“Of course,” Akira says, smiling. Ghislain can feel himself relaxing more and more the longer he talks to Akira, the weight of being the only coach lifting. He looks up just in time to see Yuzu fall on a quad loop. Yuzu tries the loop again, and falls a second time.

“Try something else,” Ghislain says quickly when Yuzu circles back around. He hasn’t been giving Yuzu much instruction this practice session, and he feels a little bad about it. Trying a new jump when one isn’t working is as good advice as any.

Yuzu tests his lutz entry a few times, even jumping a couple singles. Then he lines up, gliding down the rink. He juts his toe pick into the ice, leaps into the air—and comes crashing down directly on his ankle, bending it under him. His face twists in pain.

Ghislain’s heart stops. Next to him, he feels Akira go very still. Yuzu gets up, testing his ankle carefully, and skates over to the boards.

“Are you okay?” Ghislain blurts, and Yuzu nods once, firmly. Then he skates over to Akira, whispering to him in Japanese. Akira nods in the same solemn fashion. Yuzu circles around the rink one more time, slowly.

“He’s not okay,” Akira whispers to Ghislain without turning his head. “But he doesn’t want—media panic. We need to get him off ice, I look at him.”

Some force within Ghislain is taking over his limbs, grabbing Yuzu’s belongings instinctively. “Okay.”

After Yuzu’s slow lap, he comes off the ice, hobbling a little. The entire team moves backstage as one. Ghislain brings up the rear, the fed and the medical team taking the lead. He lets the blue curtain fall right on the face of a prying cameraman and thinks, _good_.

Ghislain stands as out of the way as possible while Akira examines Yuzu’s ankle, moving it gently from side to side. Tears flow down Yuzu’s face as Akira works. A cold, sickening feeling seeps through Ghislain’s body. Why did he tell Yuzu he was okay to jump? Why didn’t he make Yuzu stop when the loop wasn’t working? He should have been paying more attention to Yuzu, not talking to Akira.

Yuzu laces up his skates with determination, and it occurs to Ghislain belatedly what he’s about to do.

“Don’t jump,” he says, his voice coming out in a loud squawk, hoarse at the end.

Yuzu looks at him like he’s crazy. “No. Can’t jump. Just need to see if I’m doing—other things.”

For an agonizing fifteen minutes, Ghislain watches Yuzu run through Seimei with only steps and spins, then do more footwork to cool off. To an untrained eye, Yuzu probably looks all right, although the lack of jumps might seem unusual. To those that know him, it’s apparent Yuzu is hurting. He moves more slowly and gingerly than Ghislain has seen in a long time, and Ghislain’s heart sinks even further.

“I don’t think he will skate,” Akira murmurs, barely audible. “He say maybe in morning he’ll see if painkillers work, but this look bad to me. Not just normal sprain.”

“How bad?”

There’s a silence, long enough for Ghislain to wonder if he’d whispered too softly. “Bad,” Akira says eventually. “Different sprain than he have before. Maybe ligament damage, hard to tell without a scan.”

Ghislain’s mouth is dry, and when he tries to swallow, he feels like his tongue gets stuck. He had one job here, and only one. Look after Yuzu. And now Yuzu’s hurt, and that’s on him. He wasn’t supposed to let this happen. Brian trusted him.

Yuzu walks confidently off the ice when his time is up, but as soon as he gets backstage, out of the watchful eye of the cameras, he starts to limp heavily. Akira moves around to his side instinctively, holding out a hand to take some of Yuzu’s weight. Ghislain trails along behind, carrying a bag of dirty tissues and one of Yuzu’s jackets. Yumi has appeared in their group, rolling one of Yuzu’s suitcases grimly.

At the end of the hall, they stop. Mercifully, there’s a garbage can so Ghislain can stop holding the trash bag. Yuzu says something in Japanese to the rest of his team, who head out of the back entrance and into the parking lot. To Ghislain, he says, “I deciding tomorrow, if I’m skating. Don’t say yes or no to media.” He sighs heavily. “Kobayashi-san, she talk to them, but maybe they try talk to you, and—“

“It’s okay,” Ghislain reassures him. “I won’t tell anyone anything.” He pats Yuzu on the shoulder. Yuzu limps away. Ghislain wanders back down the tunnel to pick up his own coat. He feels totally unmoored, no idea what his next move should be.

He needs to update Brian, he knows, but the thought of it makes him feel like throwing up. Brian trusted him with Yuzu, and Ghislain couldn’t live up to that trust. Ghislain checks his watch. It’ll be early in Toronto, too early to call Brian unless someone was dying. He can take the easy way out, send a text message. He types up a brief description of Yuzu’s injury, adds that Yuzu’s team is looking out for him and that a decision will be made in the morning.

Ghislain receives a reply almost immediately. _team has been keeping me briefed, but thank u 4 checking in. get some sleep so u can help them make a good decision tomorrow_ It makes Ghislain feel even worse. Brian’s up early, staying up to date, being a better coach thousands of miles away than Ghislain is right here. Ghislain feels like he could sleep for a hundred years and still not have the wisdom or the energy to help Yuzu make a good decision.

He grabs his coat off the folding table where he left it and trudges back down the hallway towards the exit. He’s startled by movement, appearing at the corner of his eye. “Oh, there you are,” Akira says, stepping towards him. “Did media give you hard time?”

“I—“ Ghislain scrambles for words. “I had to tell Brian, but he already knew, and—“ He trails off. There’s a prickling in his eyes that makes him wonder if he’s about to cry.

Akira looks at him thoughtfully for a long moment. “Maybe you come with me,” he says.

“What?”

“I have tea in my room,” Akira says. “Let’s have tea, let’s relax. I’m thinking, you need it.”

Ghislain doesn’t know what else to do with himself. “Sure,” he says.

Akira’s room is a few floors above Ghislain’s, closer to Yuzu’s. Ghislain feels like he’s sleepwalking, trailing along after Akira in search of this tea. Why would Akira’s room have tea, anyway? Maybe Ghislain heard him wrong. But he can’t go back to his own room, and he can’t check his phone, and they’re basically here already. This is all he can do, right now.

“Sit,” Akira commands gently, indicating the big queen bed. Ghislain perches on the side, shoulders collapsing inwards in relief. Akira takes an electric kettle from the counter and disappears into the bathroom to fill it with water. Ghislain stares as Akira plugs the kettle in and unzips his suitcase, rummaging around.

“Your room comes with a teakettle?” Ghislain asks.

Akira laughs. “No, I always bring my own. Hotel tea is bad, sometimes they making you pay for hot water.” He pulls out a striped box and takes out two teabags. The electric kettle makes a faint chiming noise. Akira pours the water into two Styrofoam cups, then hands one to Ghislain.

A light, floral smell rises from the water as Ghislain breathes in the steam. “What is this?”

“Chrysanthemum,” Akira says. “For calm.” He sits down on the bed next to Ghislain. The bed slopes downwards, so their knees knock together, and Ghislain knows he’s really upset because he doesn’t have a single feeling about the point of warmth where their legs touch.

“I don’t know if it’s going to work on me,” Ghislain says, staring into the cup before taking a cautious sip. It tastes mild and fresh, the flower present but not overwhelming.

From where he’s seated, Ghislain sees the side of Akira’s brow furrow. “You are worry about Yuzu?”

“You aren’t?” Ghislain asks, too harshly. He takes another sip of tea.

“Yes, I am worrying about him,” Akira says, evenly. “I always worrying, when he gets hurt like this. Olympics is still not too close, but—“

“Don’t even say it, god, I can’t think about that,” Ghislain says. “It’s bad enough that he’s hurt. If he misses his chance because of me—“ He can’t finish the sentence, a lump suddenly forming in his throat.

“Because of you?” Akira sounds surprised. “Yuzu don’t hurt because of you.”

“I told him he could start jumping,” Ghislain says, looking at his feet. “I wasn’t paying attention when he kept falling. And when he fucked up the loop I told him to switch to something else, not to stop. Of course it’s my fault.”

There’s a gentle, warm pressure on Ghislain’s back—Akira’s hand, resting there. Ghislain turns to look at him and sees Akira’s eyes focused intently on him, his expression fiercely concerned.

“Yuzu is hurt because ice is wet,” Akira says. “Because he don’t rest when he is sick. Because quad lutz is hard jump. He don’t hurt because of you. Don’t thinking that, please.”

It’s so heartfelt that a lump comes back into Ghislain’s throat. “Brian trusted me,” he says. “I told him I’d look after Yuzu and take care of him. And I failed. I let him down.”

“Same thing happen if Brian here,” Akira says. “Or maybe not, but, you don’t fail. You are doing your best, you could not do anything different. Brian will tell you so.”

“I know he’ll say that, but—“ Ghislain has to swallow hard. “I’ll know it’s not true. I know, I’ve been through this with him before.”

“When?” Akira asks. “Yuzu getting hurt at practice?”

“No, nothing to do with Yuzu,” Ghislain says. “When we were in our twenties, I—I almost killed Brian once.”

Akira gasps, his mouth forming a perfect round “o”. “How?”

“We were coming back from Skate Canada.” Ghislain has told this story so many times that it doesn't hurt the way it used to. “He was driving us in his parents’ car, and he was getting sleepy, so he asked me to stay awake and take over. And I fell asleep at the wheel.”

“No!”

“Yeah.” Ghislain sighs. “The car flipped over and went off the highway and we landed in a ditch. It was so scary, all I remember was screaming Brian’s name, over and over. I couldn’t do anything else.”

“He was okay, though?”

“Yeah, he got a cut on his knee, but we were both fine. But god, I felt like the worst person alive, even though no one said it was my fault. I still do, honestly. He trusted me not to fall asleep, and then I did anyway. And I could have killed us both.”

“But you didn’t,” Akira says. “Everything okay.”

“Yeah, but—“ It’s hard to convey the total sense of failure Ghislain still feels about that night. Everyone reassured him, no one blamed him, Brian forgave him instantly. He knows he’s the only one still hanging on to a dumb mistake he made decades ago. But right at the center of his heart is still that kernel of dark fear he felt when he jerked awake to find the car hurtling through the air. Someone he loved was about to die, and it would be his fault.

“Everything okay,” Akira says again. His hand is still on Ghislain’s back, and he strokes gently, so gently Ghislain wonders if he’s imagining it. “And this is different. Yuzu don’t die from sprained ankle. He don’t even miss Olympics, I think.”

“You think?” Ghislain says.

“Yuzu going to Olympics on one leg if he have to,” Akira says. “I’m thinking, we can help him do better than that.”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says blankly. He’s thinking about the summer after Boston, a morose Yuzu singling his jumps for weeks on end. He’s not sure he’s ready to handle that.

“You have really good heart,” Akira says, the fervent tone back in his voice. “You helping Yuzu so much with it. You—sharing it with me, helping me too. Please, please, don’t think you are bad, when you are so good.”

Ghislain’s eyes blur. It’s Akira who has the good heart, looking after him like this. Sharing his tea, speaking encouraging words, listening to him. Ghislain glances to his left and sees Akira’s hand, firmly clasped on his arm. Holding him, even…

A voice that sounds suspiciously like Brian’s begins to ask an insistent question. Why, exactly, is Akira’s arm around him, while their knees touch? Ghislain has some touchy friends, but this has been going on for a while. The words from the heart, the easy kindness, the warm touch—caring, yes, but not the type of caring Ghislain expects. He thinks of the restaurant after World Team Trophy suddenly. What if he wasn’t wrong about what Akira had planned to say?

Ghislain freezes. He should move away, put more space between them. Tell Akira, “I’m sorry, I don’t feel that way.” But it wouldn’t be true, and even with every complication and problem running through his mind, he doesn’t want to let go of this moment. He wants Akira to know he appreciates him, and every way he’s cared for Ghislain this evening. So he turns his head and kisses Akira lightly on the cheek. A gesture of thanks, just barely platonic.

Except—Akira turns toward him, wide-eyed, and brings his free hand to cup Ghislain’s face. He takes a visible breath, and then leans in and kisses Ghislain full on the lips.

Ghislain kisses back, caught up in the moment. He hasn’t kissed anyone in over twenty years, so he’s probably rusty as hell, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Akira’s mouth is as sweet and soft as his words, and he kisses with enthusiasm once he gets over his earlier hesitation. Ghislain gives himself over to it fully. When they pull apart, he’s dizzy. They blink at each other, trying to figure out what comes next. After a few moments of staring, Ghislain can’t take it anymore. He frees his arm from under Akira’s, grabs Akira’s face with both hands, and kisses him again with everything he’s got.

It’s more awkward this time, trying to navigate tongues and teeth and noses. Akira’s glasses get slightly smudged. But Ghislain’s heart is singing. The time he’s spent not kissing Akira seems like a waste, now. What was he doing?

When they pull apart a second time, Akira grins at him. “That was—okay?”

“That was really good,” Ghislain says, honestly. “I wouldn’t mind doing it more.”

Akira looks down at his lap, suddenly shy, and Ghislain wonders if that was too far. It was a nice kiss, but maybe Akira’s got reasons of his own to stop things here.

“Not tonight, though,” Akira says wistfully. “I have to go check on Yuzu before bed.”

The real world comes rushing back in, all the sadness of the day. “Yeah, of course. Thank you for—thank you.”

“We can do more later,” Akira says.

An electric shock runs through Ghislain. He’s not sure if _more_ means more kissing, or other things too, but he’s willing to find out. “Yes,” he says firmly. “Next time?” _There shouldn’t be a next time_, he thinks, but with the soft heat of Akira’s mouth so fresh in his memory, it’s hard to refuse another chance.

Akira’s grin eclipses his eyes. “Next time.”

Ghislain stands up, stretching, and walks to the door. He turns around and leans in for one last kiss, quick and sweet. “Good night.”

“Good night, Buri,” Akira says.

When Ghislain opens the door, he feels like he’s stepped into another world. It’s only a couple hours later, but it seems like years. He floats back to his room, dazed and reluctant. Could that have really happened?

All this time, he’d thought the feelings were all on his end. But these kisses leave no room for doubt—Akira feels it, too. Ghislain wonders how long Akira’s wanted to kiss him. Since World Team Trophy? Or earlier? Ghislain thinks about this for a while, turning over possibilities.

It feels like drinking something warm and strong, imagining Akira longing for him. Thinking he’s attractive, a word Ghislain hasn’t associated with himself in years. He’s not as handsome as Akira, with his sparkling eyes and rugged face. But Akira kissed him like Ghislain was the most handsome man in the world. Ghislain wants to see that look in his eyes again, gentle and fervent, feel those lips on his. It feels dangerous to even think that, too much. But for this evening, while his heart is still aching over Yuzu’s injury, he allows himself the luxury of enjoying these feelings. Ghislain drifts off to sleep with a pleasant fog in his head. All night, he dreams about Akira holding him.

The buzz from the kiss wears off about ten minutes after Ghislain wakes up and sees a text from Akira. _yuzu want to withdraw. meeting half an hour to do it formally_ Ghislain’s heart plummets. Poor Yuzu, having to withdraw after trying so hard. His ankle must be bad. He drags himself out of bed and down into the hallway, feeling worse with every step.

Yuzu, Akira, and the rest of the team are in one of the staging rooms off the hotel lobby. Yuzu is sitting down, holding a pair of crutches. His ankle is thickly wrapped, an ice pack bulging from one side. His face is wan and set, like he’s just washed it after crying.

Akira is hovering next to Yuzu, and glances over at Ghislain as he enters the room. For a split second, Akira’s eyes are bright, and he smiles softly. It’s gone in a flash, back to a serious expression more in line with the somber mood, but Ghislain’s heart flips. 

“I’m withdrawing,” Yuzu says to Ghislain. His voice cracks, and tears spill from his eyes. “I have to—I can’t moving it.”

Ghislain is at his side in an instant, putting an arm on his shoulder and crouching down to look into his face. “Listen, it’s going to be okay, all right? Withdrawing is a good thing. You can rest up and get ready for the Olympics.”

“I want to skate in Japan,” Yuzu says faintly.

Ghislain’s heart clenches. He hadn’t even thought of that. Yuzu gets so few chances to come home, and he relishes every one he gets. “I know,” he says, squeezing Yuzu’s shoulder. “I know you do. But nobody would be happy if you skated on an ankle that couldn’t move.”

Yuzu nods, sniffling.

“You can go rest at home for a little while now,” Ghislain says. “That’s something, at least.”

Yuzu’s face lightens, just a little. “I can, yeah.”

Akira nods, telling Yuzu something in a voice so tender it makes Ghislain feel like he can understand the words too.

“Has it been announced yet?” Ghislain asks.

“Kobayashi-san doing it right now,” Yuzu says. “I think media want to ask you questions, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ghislain says. “That’s my job here.” His heart throbs briefly. His job was supposed to be helping Yuzu through this competition, but— He stops that thought as quickly as he can. It won’t help anyone.

“I have to do interview,” Yuzu says. “With one TV station. They agreed. But then—Kikuchi and I go back to Sendai.”

“Give your dad a hug for me,” Ghislain says on impulse, and the way Yuzu’s entire face softens lets him know he said the right thing.

“We leave in few minutes, okay?” Akira says. “I need to talk to Ghislain about something.”

Yuzu nods. Ghislain turns to Akira. “What’s up?”

“With the bags,” Akira says, gesturing to the other room.

Ghislain follows him to the little holding room where the bags are being kept. Akira has a conspiratorial look on his face. 

“I look after Yuzu for few weeks,” Akira says. “Then you have to take care of him and get him to Olympics, okay?”

“I promise,” Ghislain says. “But did we really have to go somewhere else to talk about this?”

“Not for that,” Akira says. “For this.” He runs his hand up Ghislain’s arm to his shoulder and caresses it, then leans in for a light, lingering kiss.

It sends a shockwave through Ghislain. He squeezes Akira’s other hand. What do you say to people after they kiss you? “Thank you.”

“Will you say thank you after every kiss?” Akira jokes. “Canadians are polite after all, hmm?”

Ghislain blushes. _Every kiss?_ “I didn’t know what else to say, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s good,” Akira says hastily. “Like you.” He sighs. “Please take care, okay? Of yourself and Yuzu.”

“I will, don’t worry,” Ghislain says. “I’ll be in touch, you’ll know.”

“Good,” Akira says. “And I will see you at Olympics.” He says this firmly, like he’ll make it happen with just his words.

“Yes,” Ghislain says. He and Akira have the same thought at the same time, their mouths meeting in the space between them. One more.

“We need to do interviews now,” Akira says.

Ghislain snaps back to reality. “Yeah, Yuzu’s probably wondering what’s taking us so long.” He turns around too quickly and bumps into a suitcase, knocking it over with a thump. As he sets it back up, he can feel Akira smiling at him behind his back, a faint warmth.

Yuzu looks up from his phone when they return, his face as melancholy as it was when they left. Ghislain hopes he hasn’t been reading news about himself.

“Rest well, okay?” Ghislain tells him. “I’ll see you soon.”

Yuzu nods. Ghislain can see him slipping back into his public self, hiding away the overt misery in preparation for facing the cameras. “See you.”

“Goodbye,” Akira says, giving him a swift hug. It’s done before Ghislain has time to wish there was a kiss, too. He shakes himself. He has to pull it together. There are interviewers waiting for him.

Ghislain watches the two of them walk away, Yuzu swinging swiftly on his crutches, Akira scurrying beside him. Then he turns and heads in the opposite direction.

Addressing the media about Yuzu’s injury is a painful chore, and Ghislain tries to make it go as swiftly as possible. He sticks to the basics, like the team discussed, no speculation on the severity of the injury or if Yuzu will have to withdraw from other competitions. Ghislain’s primary job is to keep the media from panicking or harassing Yuzu. He keeps his words calm, but he’s afraid his face gives his worries away. 

Finally, the journalists ask their last questions and turn off their tape recorders. Ghislain goes into the men’s room and leans against the wall, breathing heavily and trying to figure out if he’s going to cry or not. After ten minutes of this, he decides he’s safe from bursting into tears and leaves. But there’s still a piercing ache in his heart, worry and longing and guilt all in one. He wishes Akira were still here, that he could be kissed and comforted and held. But Akira is on the way to Sendai with Yuzu, and Ghislain shouldn’t be wanting these things from him anyway.

He needs to call Brian, he knows. If he leaves it any longer, it’ll be too late, and he promised to let Brian know when he was done with the media. But Ghislain doesn’t know if he can do another hard thing today. He loiters in the hallway, locking and unlocking his phone, until finally the screen lights up and vibrates. Brian is calling him. 

“Did it go okay?” Brian asks as soon as Ghislain picks up. “I know they were probably after you for something juicy.”

“Yeah, it was fine,” Ghislain says. “I don’t think I gave them anything they can use.”

“Good,” Brian says. There’s a whooshing noise in the background, like Brian’s shifting the phone to his other ear, and then a long silence.

“Listen, I’m really sorry,” Ghislain says finally, closing his eyes and forcing the words out. “I’m so sorry I let you down.”

“Hold on, back up,” Brian says. “How exactly did you let me down? It sounds like you were great with the media.”

“I wasn’t paying good attention to Yuzu while he was practicing,” Ghislain says. “I was just telling him to do things on the fly, and then—one of those things hurt him. I was a shitty coach yesterday, and it’s probably my fault Yuzu’s injured. So.”

Ghislain hears the unmistakable sound of Brian sighing through his nose. “Ghislain. Do you know how many times I’ve been at a practice session and realized I have no idea what one of my students is doing?”

“Really?” 

“Yes, really, I look up all the time and I’m like ‘what the fuck, since when is Javi drilling his axel’, it’s the most normal thing in the world. We can’t focus a hundred percent of the time, we’re not machines. It’s no big deal, I promise.”

Ghislain feels vaguely embarrassed. “I was distracted because Akira was there,” he admits, the last piece of his shame out in the open. “I was talking to him, and—”

“Oh my god,” Brian says. “That’s really cute. And also definitely not why Yuzu is injured. Didn’t they say he had a fever?”

“They did, but—”

“It’s _fine_,” Brian says. “I promise you, Ghislain, it’s fine. You were a great coach this weekend. You know how I know?”

“How?” 

“Yuzu told me,” Brian says. “He called me before he withdrew, and one of the things he said was that you did a great job looking after him. Which I knew you would, which is why I sent you. So can you stop acting like you murdered someone and chill out?”

Ghislain’s entire heart is warm. It takes him back to the hospital room, the day after he sent the car off the road, Brian scowling at him from the bed where they were keeping him for observation. _Well, you didn’t kill me this time, so can you cheer the fuck up?_ Brian’s not all that good at stopping Ghislain’s insecurities, but after forty-two years of friendship, just knowing that’s what Brian is trying to do is enough for Ghislain. 

“Fine,” Ghislain says. There’s a pause. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Brian says. “Thank _you_. Come back to Toronto so we can figure out how to get Yuzu to the Olympics, okay?”

Ghislain pictures Brian and Akira’s certainty as a pillar, steady and sure, holding everything up that threatens to crumble. Maybe there isn’t so much to be afraid of, after all.

“You got it,” Ghislain says. He hangs up the phone, heading down the hallway with a lighter step.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of the car accident that Ghislain tells Akira is true - Brian talks about it in his autobiography. Thanks to people on Twitter for bringing it to my attention.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The lead up to the Olympics and the triumphant arrival. Featuring rogue jumping strategies, unorthodox insomnia cures, and the voice in Ghislain’s head that may or may not be full of shit.

Somewhere in the air between Japan and Canada, Ghislain loses his nerve again. Without Akira right there, or Brian’s voice on the line, some of the certainty Ghislain had about Yuzu’s recovery has worn off. He knows Yuzu can battle back from injury, but it took months last time—months they don’t have. This second Olympics means so much to Yuzu, and Ghislain doesn’t want anything to jeopardize it. If Yuzu can’t go at full capacity, or if he has to withdraw—

Ghislain shakes his head. He needs to think about something else. Like the way Akira’s face lit up after the first time they kissed. Or how it felt the next day, meeting Akira’s eyes and knowing he didn’t regret it. It still tingles like it did in the moment, thinking about Akira’s lips on his. Ghislain can’t believe it really happened—the thing he’d been trying valiantly not to want for years. Maybe it could have happened sooner, if he’d paid closer attention, hadn’t held Akira at arms’ length.

There are still good reasons why it shouldn’t have happened, Ghislain thinks sadly. The next time he’ll see Akira is at the Olympics, and after that, who knows. They haven’t gotten a single mile closer and their lives haven’t gotten a single bit less complicated, just because Akira turned out to have a soft, warm mouth and comforting arms. And it’s not like a few kisses mean all that much. It makes Ghislain feel slightly sick, thinking about it this way, but he has to face facts.

_We can do more later,_ Akira had said, so maybe more kisses are in his future, at the Olympics. Maybe sex, although the idea of someone wanting to have sex with him sounds roughly as plausible as someone sending him to the moon. Ghislain would very much want to have it with Akira, though. He starts to think about it, just a little, and has to stop abruptly because he can feel his face getting red. The woman in the seat next to him appears to be engrossed in her magazine, but Ghislain is still embarrassed, like all of business class is watching him picture Akira with his shirt off.

The long and the short of it is that there’s nothing here that wasn’t before, he reminds himself eventually. Just because his crush appears to be mutual doesn’t change anything. He needs to buckle down, focus on helping Yuzu get to the Olympics, and not get distracted from what’s real by chasing what’s tantalizing but impossible.

But when the flight lands and he turns his phone back on, he has four texts from Akira:

_fly safe!_   
_we made it to sendai_   
_take care_   
_see you in korea （*＾＾*)_

Ghislain smiles down at his phone. Whatever this is, he might as well enjoy it, for however long it lasts.

****  
Yuzu returns to Toronto two weeks later. He’s still on crutches, limping into the club on Monday morning for a meeting with Brian. Ghislain’s stomach twists when he sees Yuzu. He’d hoped, somehow, that Yuzu’s injury would be more healed. Yuzu himself seems downcast, mouth grim and eyes blank, and Ghislain hopes Brian can lift him out of it somehow.

After half an hour, Brian’s head pokes out of the office door. “Ghislain?” he calls. “We need you in here for a minute.”

Ghislain skates over and wobbles into the office on his blades. Yuzu gives him the tiniest of smiles, just barely there.

“We’re just talking about the plan for when Yuzu gets back on the ice,” Brian says.

“How long will that be?” Ghislain asks.

“Maybe three more weeks?” Yuzu says. “Maybe four, I don’t know.”

Ghislain hopes the panic doesn’t show in his eyes. “Okay.”

“We’ll ramp up as quickly as we can from there,” Brian says. “The goal is to get as many of his jumps back as we can before the Olympics. We don’t have to do anything crazy or help him break any records, we just have to set him up for the win. Which we can do.”

“Sounds good,” Ghislain says. He’s still skeptical, but he knows better than to argue with that firm tone in Brian’s voice. He gets up to leave.

“Wait, I have something for you,” Yuzu says.

“You do?”

Yuzu reaches into his backpack and pulls out a familiar-looking striped box. He hands it over to Ghislain. “From Kikuchi-san,” he says smugly.

It’s some of the chrysanthemum tea they drank in Akira’s hotel room. Stuck to the top of the box is a blue Post-It, one end curled up. It says _To Buri, Stay relax! –Akira_. Ghislain’s face flames up.

“It’s good?” Yuzu asks, in that same knowing voice.

“Yeah,” Ghislain says absently. “Thank you.” He can’t stop looking at the neat lines of Akira’s handwriting, the precise dot over the i in _Buri_. He presses down the curled edge of the Post-It carefully, trying to even it out.

“I have to go to physiotherapy now,” Yuzu says, picking up his crutches with a clatter. Ghislain tears himself away from the box.

“Good luck,” he tells Yuzu. “I’ll see you later.”

He moves to stand up himself, but Brian gestures for him to stay seated. “Hang on.”

“Okay,” Ghislain says. He has a feeling he knows what’s about to happen.

Sure enough, as soon as Yuzu’s closed the door, Brian draws his chair closer and rests his chin on his hands. “That must be some pretty special tea.”

Ghislain is going to have fun with this. “Well, considering we had some right before we kissed, I think so.”

“You _what_?” Brian hisses. Ghislain can feel heat rush into his face. “You kissed him? Or did he kiss you?”

“Both,” Ghislain says. “I kissed him on the cheek, then he kissed me on the lips.” He feels like a teen again, listening to the other boys on the bus talk about how far they’d gotten with the girls. He’d never understood why anyone would want to talk about it like that, what was so special about getting to put your lips on a girl’s lips that you had to announce it to the whole world. But telling Brian is like reliving the moment, sweet warmth rising up in his heart, mingled with pride. _Akira likes me._

“And you didn’t want to tell me this on the phone?”

“We were having a serious conversation about work! It wasn’t the right time.”

“Yeah, sure. You just didn’t want to hear me say _I told you so_,” Brian says. “Because I did, I _so_ told you he was into you.”

Ghislain sighs. “Fine, yeah, you were right.”

“I thought you were going to stay just friends, though. What happened to that?”

Ghislain considers. It’s not like anything has changed, and yet something has shifted. “He’s a really good person,” he says finally. “He took care of me when I was worried, and he was so gentle with me, and I had this moment where I saw how he really felt, and I just couldn’t—I couldn’t let him think that he didn’t mean anything to me.”

Brian is silent, looking thoughtful.

“It’s probably a really bad idea,” Ghislain says. “I know we still can’t be anything to each other, really. But—it was nice.” He trails off lamely.

“You never know what’s going to happen,” Brian says after a while. “One thing at a time. Let’s get to the Olympics first. Maybe then you can finally get laid.”

“Oh my _god_,” Ghislain groans. “You’re the worst.”

“I’m a _great_ friend,” Brian says, puffing out his chest. “And a great boss. We should probably go back to work, though.” He pushes back his chair. “Back to the grindstone, eh?”

On the way out of the office, Ghislain leans over, patting Brian on the shoulder. A small thank you, for always listening.

****  
December speeds by. Yuzu is off crutches, but he still isn’t skating, coming to the club for physical therapy and then leaving as swiftly as he came. Ghislain feels the old fear eating away at his gut. It doesn’t help that he hasn’t had a conversation with Yuzu since they got back to Canada, just seen him in passing, a dark shadow with a set expression.

He tries not to text Akira too much about his worries for Yuzu, but it’s hard to avoid the subject when it’s on both of their minds. Akira is more optimistic, drawing on his knowledge of Yuzu’s resilience over the years, but Ghislain can tell he feels helpless so far away from Yuzu. Ghislain hopes to think of something to help Yuzu, once Yuzu gets back on the ice, but he gets a sick anxious feeling whenever he imagines Yuzu showing up at the Olympics with so little training under his belt. 

In the meantime, he and Akira are texting about all kinds of things, in an attempt to take their minds off the Olympics. It feels like they’re talking even more than before, going in depth into things they once only mentioned in passing. Ghislain tells Akira about his other students, the book he’s slowly reading, even the ups and down of the Habs’ season. Akira sends Ghislain messages about the day-to-day at the clinic, his role as therapist for a unicycle club, and, once, a picture of himself in front of an ad featuring Yuzu in the Sendai train station. His brow is gently furrowed in concentration, and he’s smiling. 

Ghislain feels a shock of warmth when he opens the photo. He stares at it for a long time before saving it to his phone. The next morning, he tries for a long time to take his own selfie, in the rink before the students get there. But he looks angry in all of them, and the camera seems to give him more chins than he already has, so he deletes them all and settles for sending back a smiley face.

The first week of January is momentous: Yuzu is finally cleared to return to the ice. They don’t have the luxury of spending a lot of time on training, but Ghislain doesn’t want to discourage him the first week back. They’ll start as slow as they can. Stroking exercises, waltz jumps, singles. Giving him back the feel for the ice.

Yuzu is restless and impatient, a caged animal smelling fresh air. Tracy has to settle him down during class warmups, cautioning him to go slower in her firmest voice. Ghislain is awkward during their portion of the training, stammering his way through instructing Yuzu to practice his jump entries. He can’t get a good read on Yuzu, whether he’s feeling confident or discouraged, only that he wants to be back immediately. It sends yet another pang of anxiety through him, in a way that’s getting old fast.

By Friday, they’re drilling single jumps—if “drilling” is the right word for doing two or three jumps followed by a long break. Ghislain doesn’t want to wear Yuzu out. And he senses the immense pent-up energy in Yuzu, the way he could easily overwork himself while his injury is still fresh. Yuzu ices his ankle immediately after practices, which doesn’t fill Ghislain with a lot of confidence.

_yuzu won’t be recovered in time i don’t think_ he sends to Akira on Saturday.

_i know_ Akira responds quickly. _we just make him as okay as we can_

Ghislain lets the reality of this wash over him. It’s unfair, it’s infuriating, it could ruin Yuzu’s career…but it’s true, and Yuzu himself certainly knows this. He’s not operating like someone who’s expecting to be right as rain in six weeks. The only difference between now and all the other times Yuzu has skated hurt is that they know about this ahead of time, he reminds himself. He can’t spend a lot of time wishing for something that won’t happen. He has to work with what he’s got.

Still, when he sees Yuzu’s face the next day, a mask of determination concealing a roiling unidentifiable emotion, he forgets this all over again. Surely, surely, if they work their way through the jumps in order, without strain or overexertion, they’ll all come back in perfect condition.

It takes almost two weeks for Yuzu to start trying doubles. They’re wobbly and loose, not well controlled. He has particular trouble with the double axel, popping it into a single constantly. Ghislain can feel the hot breath of the Olympics on both of their necks. This looks impossible. He thought he’d had a semblance of a plan: help Yuzu add his jumps back little by little. But the double axel just won’t work, even as the other doubles start falling into line. Ghislain feels like he’s banging his head against a wall.

“Try it again,” Ghislain instructs, aiming to be firm but gentle.

Yuzu tries the double axel again. His leg opens up too early and it turns into yet another single. His knee swings out in a perfect angle, like a backwards 4. Ghislain stifles a sigh.

“I do again, I promise,” Yuzu says, desperately. He’s off before Ghislain can say anything, and the second he takes off Ghislain can tell it’s not going to go well. This pop is even more violent than the last one, barely a single. Yuzu spits a curse when he lands.

“Come here,” Ghislain says. He’s going to have to be very firm with Yuzu, if Yuzu is in a mood. Yuzu skates over, a defiant expression on his face.

“I need you to—“ Ghislain starts, looking Yuzu in the face, and then stops. Yuzu’s eyes are wild and pained, like an animal caught in a trap. Behind the sneering lips and wrinkled nose Ghislain sees pure panic. Yuzu isn’t mad at Ghislain, or even frustrated with himself. He’s scared that he can’t do what he knows he has to do.

“I need you to take three laps around the rink before we do anything else,” Ghislain says. Yuzu makes a big show of sighing, but speeds off, doing broad, sweeping crossovers.

While Yuzu circles the rink, Ghislain racks his brain. What’s Yuzu’s problem with the double axel? It’s the one thing standing in his way, preventing him from moving on to triples, and then quads. But Yuzu’s axel entrance is almost perfect—there’s nothing wrong with his technique. And double axels are easy for the elite men, most of whom remove the jump from their programs once they hit seniors…

A thought strikes Ghislain, with the force of lighting. He calls Yuzu over.

“When was the last time you had a double axel in your program?” he asks.

“Last year of juniors,” Yuzu says immediately, like he can see all his old protocols in his head. “Had one in my free, and two triple.”

It’s just like Ghislain thought. “I think I know how to fix your double axel,” he says slowly.

Yuzu’s expression is so desperate it hurts. “How?”

“Don’t do one,” Ghislain says. “Your body doesn’t know how to do them anymore. What were you in your first year of juniors, fourteen? Fifteen? That’s too long ago. Do a triple axel instead.”

Yuzu’s eyes widen. “I don’t know…”

“Triple axel is your friend, right?” Ghislain asks. Yuzu nods. “So you do a triple axel, then your body’s gonna remember the other stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

Ghislain isn’t sure. But everything in Yuzu is crying out for help, and Ghislain knows he has to respond. He can’t play it safe here, not when so much is at stake. Not when Yuzu trusts him like this.

“Try it,” Ghislain says.

Yuzu glides across the rink. He turns around, setting up the backcounter approach that makes his axel so distinctive. Ghislain’s heart is in his throat. Yuzu swings his arms, leaps up…and rotates three and a half times, axis perfectly straight. He lands with a flourish, free leg a little wobbly but upright nonetheless.

“Oh my god,” Ghislain says, and finds his voice is hoarse. “Oh my god, Yuzu.”

Yuzu speeds across the rink towards him. Ghislain opens his arms, and Yuzu rushes into them. Yuzu trembles against his shoulder.

“It’s gonna be okay,” Ghislain says, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “I told you, right? It’s all still there. You still got it.”

“Yeah,” Yuzu says, wetly.

“We’ll get you there,” Ghislain says, possessed with a strange, burning certainty. “And when you get there, it’s gonna be—like this. They won’t know what hit them.”

“Yeah,” Yuzu says. “Yeah!” He steps back, wiping his nose on his sleeve.

“Do it again,” Ghislain says. “I want to take a video.”

Yuzu winds up and leaps into the air with languid ease. It’s another beautiful triple axel, like he’s been skating for months instead of weeks. Ghislain captures it all on video, including his own “Woohoo!” when Yuzu lands. As soon as the session’s over, he sends it to Akira.

He’s grown accustomed to the emojis that pepper Akira’s texts, but nothing prepares him for the number of weeping faces Akira sends him. Two messages of nothing but that, and then a message that says: _i am so proud of him and you_

Ghislain reads the message in bed, holding the phone close to his chest like it’s a hug from Akira himself. _thank u. now i see what u mean. he’ll be ready._

_he’ll be more than ready,_ Akira replies. _he’ll win_

With the triple axel mastered, Yuzu moves on to the other triples. These are more recalcitrant, particularly the lutz—Yuzu’s body is protecting him from another fall. But even on the hardest days, Ghislain keeps the memory of Yuzu’s triple axel on his mind. It’s all still in there, not lost, just dormant. And when Yuzu is called upon to deliver, Ghislain has no doubt that he will.

The Olympics gets closer and closer. Yuzu moves on to the quad toe. Brian holds a meeting for all the members of Team Cricket who are heading to Pyeongchang.

“We’re going to have to do a little maneuvering,” Brian explains to the students. “Of course we’ll all be there for you at practices, and I’ll be there at the boards for each one of you. But we’re assigning one coach per team so we can all get there and make sure you each have an accredited coach.”

Ghislain stops listening as Brian answers a question from Raya. This is the same thing they did last time, although there were fewer Cricket skaters at Sochi. Brian will pick a random country for him, he’ll get a nice jacket, he’ll sleep in a dinky team hotel room. At least he doesn’t have to share rooms like the athletes do.

“Ghislain,” Brian says, and Ghislain snaps back to attention. “You’ll be with Team Japan.” He smiles as he says it.

It takes a minute for Ghislain to process this. On Team Japan, with Yuzu. With Akira. Staying in the Japan House with Akira. He bites down on his lip so he doesn’t blush.

“Is this just so I can see Akira more easily?” Ghislain asks when the meeting is over.

“Excuse you, I’m trying to set Yuzu up for success here by having a coach with him that he trusts the whole time,” Brian says. “This is the best scenario professionally.” His eyes twinkle. “But you can think of the other thing as a fringe benefit.”

“Thank you,” Ghislain says, abashed.

“Someone’s going to get laid,” Brian singsongs.

“Stop it, you don’t know that for sure,” Ghislain says. He doesn’t know why he’s arguing against something he desperately wants to happen, only that it seems impossible Akira could want it too.

Brian snorts. “If you say so. But I think you’re going to get very lucky at this Olympics. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“There are a lot more things on that list than I’m comfortable with.”

Brian grins. “How about this. Help our kids win some medals, kiss your man a lot, and relax and enjoy yourself.”

Ghislain feels like he’s hurtling through the air. _Your man._ “Are those my official Olympic objectives?” he teases.

Brian laughs. “I think they’re achievable. Don’t you?”

Ghislain thinks about Yuzu’s triple axel, a beautiful improbable thing. He pictures Akira’s eyes twinkling behind his glasses, right before their kiss goodbye. Maybe he’s been underestimating what’s possible. “I think so too.”

****

Ghislain has been on a lot of transatlantic flights, but never one that feels so much like limbo, a suspension between two points. The secluded, quiet world of the past few months is about to burst wide open. When they get off the plane, they’ll have to face a press corps voracious for news about Yuzu, navigate the million expectations of the media and the fans, put their strategy for Olympic success into action. And Ghislain will have to see Akira in person.

He has sappy, indulgent daydreams about kissing in the middle of the airport, running to each other like they’ve been apart for years. They leave him feeling vaguely ashamed—he’s not supposed to be wanting any of this. But the taste of Akira’s affection was so sweet, Ghislain can’t help but reach for it again, for just a little more. 

When the plane lands, Ghislain is exhausted and cranky. He had to change into the Team Japan uniform, and the tie is digging into his neck. They’re herded off the plane and into a staging room, where six security guards in dark glasses and bulky vests are waiting to whisk Yuzu through the crowds of fans. 

A different member of the security team, in plain clothes, takes Ghislain and Yumi to an alternate entrance, where a boxy white van is waiting for them. Ghislain falls asleep as soon as they start moving, and when they pull into the Olympic village after the twenty-minute ride, he has the uncomfortable feeling that he’s been snoring. Yumi doesn’t say anything about it, of course. She looks worn out herself, probably grateful to be away from the fervor that swirls around her son.

“Is someone looking after you?” Ghislain asks. It’s not what he means to say, but he can’t think of a better way to phrase it when he’s this tired.

Yumi’s tired face brightens. “My husband and daughter are here.”

“Oh, good,” Ghislain says. He helps Yumi out of the van. She hurries off into the building, walking so fast that her rolling suitcase bounces from wheel to wheel. Ghislain stands there in the middle of the pavement, bags at his feet, trying to get his bearings. After a while, he shuffles inside.

The woman at the front desk looks up when Ghislain enters, nodding in his direction. But Ghislain only gives her a passing glance, because Akira is standing right near the desk, gazing around as if he’s looking for someone. When he spots Ghislain, he grins.

“Hey,” Ghislain says, walking over.

“Hi,” Akira says, arms outstretched.

Ghislain collapses into the hug, feeling the exhaustion seep out of his limbs. 

“I missed you,” Akira whispers, so softly it takes Ghislain a moment to register the words.

“Me too,” Ghislain murmurs back.

They break apart, Akira’s hand lingering on Ghislain’s back as he lets go. “We should go upstairs.”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says. He needs food, or coffee, or a nap. Or all three.

Akira beckons the receptionist, and soon Ghislain has an armful of folders and three plastic badges around his neck.

“I show you where your room is,” Akira says. “But, in my room, there is tea.”

Ghislain knows an invitation when he hears one. “Okay.”

Ghislain dumps his suitcase unceremoniously on the floor of his room. He takes off his jacket and tie and pulls on a sweatshirt. He hesitates in the doorway for a while, caught between the pull of his bed and the invitation from Akira. _Tea has caffeine,_ he reasons after a while, and heads down the hall.

Akira’s room is more homey—he’s unpacked his suitcase, hung his Team Japan jackets in the closet. A stack of academic journals and a clear plastic box full of athletic tape clutter the desk. Ghislain spots the familiar electric kettle, next to two white ceramic mugs, and his heart thuds.

Akira is hovering in the entryway, just far enough from Ghislain to be out of arm’s reach. They stand there for endless minutes, awkwardly. Finally Ghislain moves forward, and Akira seems to decide in the same moment. They meet in the middle, reaching out for each other.

The kiss is hesitant and gentle, feeling their way back to the place they were before. Akira seems to relax, afterwards, stepping aside to let Ghislain into the room.

“We have armchair this time,” he tells Ghislain, gesturing with a flourish.

There’s only one armchair. “You can sit there,” Ghislain says.

“No, you are my guest,” Akira tells him, as if the entire hotel is his home, as if he organized the Olympics specifically for the purpose of giving Ghislain tea and seating him in a small grey armchair. It makes Ghislain want to kiss him again. He shuffles over to the armchair and sinks into it gratefully, stretching his legs out.

“Did you have bad flight?” Akira asks. “You look tired.”

“Just long,” Ghislain says. “And hard to sleep on. Fourteen hours, that’s no joke. You know.”

“Yeah,” Akira says, plugging in the teakettle. “I am lucky this time, I get here easy. Same time zone as Japan. It’s good, they ask me to help other team trainers get ready. We have big meeting, it was good.” 

“Oh, wow,” Ghislain says. “Do you do that a lot?”

“Sometimes,” Akira says. “Working with Yuzu, too many things happen to him, but it teaching me a lot about preparing athletes. And other trainers respect me, because they see him win.”

Ghislain can translate this easily: Akira is incredible at what he does, and his colleagues want to know the secret. “That’s really good.”

The kettle whistles. Ghislain stares at the water pouring into the teacups, at Akira’s strong hands guiding the kettle spout. He’s so tired that he’s almost stopped having thoughts, just letting the world rush past him in a series of sensations.

Akira hands him a cup. Ghislain almost drops it, it’s so hot. It jolts him out of his half-doze. “Did you bring the cups?” he asks.

“In Team Japan house, they know what’s important,” Akira says. He lowers himself carefully onto the ottoman at the foot of the bed, keeping his teacup level. “Any time you want, they give you cups and tea. Good tea, not hotel tea.”

Ghislain takes a sip. It’s strong and bitter, a punch to the face, like the taste alone will keep him from sleeping. “But it’s better with you, right?”

There’s a silence, and Ghislain looks up from his tea to see Akira blushing, staring down at his knees. Ghislain was just trying to tease, but now that he thinks about it, he sees how fond it sounded, how intimate. He’s too tired to behave well here.

“I’m glad you like it,” Akira says.

Ghislain takes another sip, trying to get them back to comfortable ground. “Tell me more about what you were telling the trainers.”

As Akira talks, gesturing wildly with the hand that’s not holding the teacup, Ghislain comes to the unfortunate conclusion that he might be too tired for caffeine to work properly. He sets the mug down and leans back in the chair. 

The next thing Ghislain knows, someone is lightly shaking his arm. He sits up and immediately grimaces at a cramp in his neck. Was he asleep?

“Do you want to nap in my bed?” Akira is asking gently. “You look, not comfortable.”

Ghislain blinks at Akira, trying to process.

“I wake you up for dinner,” Akira says.

All Ghislain wants is to be asleep for another hundred years. “Okay.”

Ghislain shuffles over to the bed. Absently, he notices that Akira is herding him along, as if he can’t walk by himself. He kicks off his shoes and one of them hits Akira in the leg. “Shit, sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Akira says. His mouth is pinched, like he’s trying not to laugh.

Akira’s bed feels gloriously soft, and it pulls Ghislain in, enveloping him. He closes his eyes, lulled back to sleep almost instantly.

True to his word, Akira wakes him up for dinner, an hour and a half later. Ghislain wants to slug him.

“Next time I’m knocking myself out on the plane,” Ghislain groans as he sits up in bed. “I’m too old for this shit.”

Akira strokes his arm. “Poor Buri,” he coos.

Ghislain has to kiss him, after that. Akira makes a faint noise of surprise, reaching out to draw Ghislain further in. They kiss for a while, Ghislain sleepy and Akira careful, more languid than passionate. It wakes Ghislain up a little, the warm tender pull of Akira’s lips, the caress of his firm hands on Ghislain’s face.

“Dinner,” Akira says mournfully after a little while.

Ghislain’s stomach is growling. “Sounds good. Do you think it’ll be as good as last time?”

“I told you, Team Japan know what is important,” Akira says. “Good food, good tea, and win a medal.”

“I can get behind that,” Ghislain says.

The food is excellent, although Ghislain is hungry enough that almost anything would taste good. They devour it together, not talking much. When he’s done, Ghislain checks his email on the fancy phone he got from the Olympic organizers. There’s nothing scheduled for tonight. He’s free to go back to blessed, beautiful sleep. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Akira nods, looking almost disappointed for a fleeting moment—or maybe Ghislain imagined it. “See you tomorrow.”

Ghislain barely has the energy to put on his pajamas, and fifteen minutes after entering his room he’s already drifting off. In no time at all his alarm is ringing and the sun is blaring through the blinds he forgot to close. It’s a new day, and he feels a hundred times better.

Yuzu’s first practice is in a training rink, not the main arena. But all eyes will still be on him. It’s his first time skating in the public eye since the injury. Yuzu has a scheme for this, though, part reasonable post-travel warmup and part mind game. They worked it out together, Yuzu and Ghislain and Brian, the day before they left, pinning the strategy down. It makes Ghislain chuckle whenever he thinks about it.

The rink is buzzing, crammed with journalists and photographers. Ghislain and the team have to fight for a spot at the boards. Shutters click all around them as they take their places, like a thousand hurrying footsteps. Akira is standing behind and to the left of Ghislain, holding Yuzu’s suitcase. Ghislain can feel the energy running between the five of them, nerves and anticipation and pride.

Their eyes, like everyone’s, are on Yuzu as he runs through stroking exercises, an elegant blur bending and gliding. After fifteen minutes of warming up, Yuzu executes his plan. One by one, he jumps the singles, deliberate and exaggerated. He finishes with a triple axel and a spread eagle into a deep, sweeping bow. There’s a smattering of confused applause as he glides to the rink entrance and grabs his skate guards from Brian. Yuzu rushes past the media with his head held high, the team in close pursuit. 

Once they’re out of the mixed zone, Ghislain glances at Brian and starts laughing, a guffaw that rises from deep in his gut. Pretty soon they’re all laughing together, wiping their eyes and sighing. “What a practice,” Brian says, with the ghost of a chuckle. “No one’s going to top that any time soon.”

The adrenaline of those moments stays with Ghislain for the rest of the day, a shivery feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was thrilling to be a part of, all those eyes on Yuzu and their team. He loved watching Yuzu take that attention and run with it, use it to keep his own secrets and flex the power he has over the media. He did it perfectly, and it was exhilarating to play a tiny role.

But it was also terrifying, like standing too close to the edge of a cliff. All that attention could turn sour, work against Yuzu if he fails or stumbles. It could expose the things Yuzu doesn’t want anyone to know: that his ankle is still healing, that he only landed a quad loop on the day before they left and hasn’t landed a quad lutz. It could backfire, overwhelming Yuzu instead of buoying him up. Ghislain’s own skating career never really got off the ground, and some of that had to do with this: standing in the center of an ice rink, feeling someone else’s expectations like a weight on his back, keeping him from moving forward. Yuzu often thrives under pressure, but not always.

Ghislain can’t stop thinking about it, all the things that could go wrong and all the things that could go right, an endless whirl in his head. He tries to calm it down with a leisurely dinner and a walk through the brisk cold. He flips channels, watching bits of shows here and there. In a last resort, he goes down to the lobby and gets a mug of chrysanthemum tea. Nothing works.

Ghislain forces himself into bed, closing his eyes and willing himself to sleep. But he wakes up again only two hours later, jittery and full of dark, fatalistic thoughts. What business does he have, being here, helping to manage pressure and expectations for a superstar athlete like Yuzu? It’s his fault that Yuzu got hurt in the first place. Why should Yuzu trust him? Or Brian, or Akira? Why do all these people who are world-class at their jobs believe he’s one of them, and not just a guy mostly lucking into a decent career? He’s not even taking these Olympics seriously. He’s dallying in Akira’s room, drinking tea and kissing him, a move that will backfire in about fifty different ways, sooner or later.

After Ghislain’s brain has spun out a vivid scenario where his feelings for Akira cost them both their jobs and Yuzu the gold medal, he picks up his phone. It’s one-thirty am. The little room feels like a trap, like these bad thoughts are seeping out of the walls and into his brain. He sends a quick message to Akira, before he can second-guess himself: _you up? i can’t sleep_

_can’t sleep either_ A minute of typing bubbles, then: _come over_ Ghislain slides his feet into a pair of hotel slippers, tugs a sweatshirt on over his pajamas, and tiptoes out of the room and down the hall.

Akira is standing at the door, holding it open and peering down the hallway. He’s wearing grey pajama pants and a t-shirt, faded from navy to pale blue. Without his glasses, he looks softer, more vulnerable. Ghislain’s heart aches, fondness and fear and longing all in one painful throb.

“You okay?” Akira asks.

Ghislain wants to spill everything, every last worry. _I’m so scared for Yuzu. I don’t know how to help him because I was a no-name washup and he’s the best skater in the history of the sport. You’re incredibly gorgeous right now and I want you so badly, and that terrifies me._ But he can’t bleed all over Akira again, not after he took so much from him at NHK, not at quarter to two in the morning the day before the short program. “Just thinking too much,” he says.

“Me too,” Akira says, with a little smile. “Too much think, not enough sleep. And tea doesn’t help.”

“I tried it too, it didn’t help me either,” Ghislain says. “Then I ran out of things to do.”

Akira walks over to the bed. “Here, let’s sit.”

“Yeah?” It’s just a bed. It’s just sitting.

“So if we tired, we can fall asleep,” Akira explains.

Ghislain can’t argue with that logic. They sit side by side, backs against the headboard and legs splayed out in front of them. Ghislain’s thigh is just barely touching Akira’s, not enough to mean something. He wants to touch more, to hold and be held, but it would feel different, at this hour. More significant.

“When you don’t sleep, what do you think about to get tired?” Akira asks after a while.

Ghislain chuckles. “All those little things I had to memorize as a kid. Capitals of provinces, dates in Canadian history, all that. It’s so boring, it usually puts me right to sleep. And some of them had little songs to help you remember, so I’ll sing those too.”

“You sing them for me?” Akira teases.

“No way.” Ghislain elbows Akira lightly in the ribs, both of them giggling. His arm hovers there, closer, resting half on Akira’s thigh. After a minute, Akira moves his own arm so their hands brush, intertwining their fingers.

“What do you think about when you can’t sleep?” Ghislain asks. He rubs his thumb against Akira’s index finger over and over, like a talisman.

“Bones in the body, and muscles,” Akira says. “Everything I memorize for anatomy. I start from head, work my way down. Usually I’m sleeping by legs.”

“There’s a song about that in English.” Ghislain hums. “The foot bone’s connected to the ankle bone, the ankle bone’s connected to the leg bone…”

“I thought you say you don’t sing!”

“That was an exclusive. Just for you.”

“Lucky me,” Akira says. His voice in the dark is low and gentle, more serious than teasing. 

There’s a companionable hush in the little room, the only sound the hum of the heater. Akira lets go of Ghislain’s hand and moves his arm around Ghislain’s shoulder, drawing him closer. Ghislain leans his head against Akira. Akira smells fresh and warm, like newly washed sheets. It sends a jolt through Ghislain at first, and then it’s just comfortable. He yawns once, twice.

“Do you…want to sleep here?” Akira asks hesitantly.

Ghislain imagines standing up and leaving the room, getting back into his lonely bed at the other end of the hall, like he knows he should. It’s the worst thing he can imagine, at this moment.

“Please,” Ghislain says.

There’s a solid ten minutes of adjusting before the two of them settle in. Ghislain wiggles as close to the center of the bed as he can. Akira rolls over, with his back to Ghislain, and Ghislain is momentarily offended before remembering that they’re trying to sleep here, not—anything else.

“Goodnight,” Akira’s voice says, muffled by pillows.

“Goodnight,” Ghislain whispers back.

A loud, mechanical chirping noise rouses Ghislain the next morning. He struggles awake, feeling like he’s rising from the depths of the sea. There’s a weight over his stomach, as if he’s trapped in sleep. He shifts, and realizes it’s Akira’s arm, draped over him.

Ghislain lies still for as long as he can before gently shaking Akira. “Come on, I think it’s time to get up.”

Akira yawns and sits up in bed. He blinks at Ghislain, expression puzzled, and then reaches out to touch Ghislain’s face, brushing his fingertips over Ghislain’s stubble.

“What,” Ghislain asks.

“I think maybe I dream you.” Akira smiles. “But you’re here.”

Ghislain’s heart pounds. _Do you dream about me often?_ he wants to ask. _What do you dream?_ He scoots closer, cupping the back of Akira’s neck.

It’s their longest kiss yet, not that Ghislain is counting. Slow and drawn-out at first, and then more and more frantic, teeth and lips and tongues. They’re learning as they go, getting more familiar by the second, and Ghislain can feel the blood rush to his head. He shifts slightly, climbing into Akira’s lap, and—

A loud buzz like a drill startles them both. There’s one, then another. Akira’s phone is lighting up with messages. He turns away and picks it up, frowning at the screen.

“Brian wanting to know if I know where you are,” he says. “He want to meet you for breakfast.” Akira types briskly.

“Oh, god,” Ghislain groans. He forgot to bring his phone with him. “Am I late?”

“No, he says—“ Akira puts on his glasses and peers at the screen. “Tell Ghislain to meet me at McDonald’s whenever he is ready, winking face.” The phone buzzes again, and he scrolls down. “Don’t worry, winking face. Why is he winking?”

Ghislain sighs. “Brian thinks we—“ He tries again. “Brian wanted us to be in the Team Japan house together. So we could—because he knows how I…about what happened at NHK.”

There’s a long pause as Akira takes that in, a pause during which the tip of his nose gets very pink. “Oh,” he says. “Brian…”

“If Brian knows your feelings, he tries to do something about them,” Ghislain explains. “Even if it’s the worst idea ever.” He’s laughing, trying to make a joke out of it, but Akira’s brow is furrowed.

“Do you…” Akira starts. “How do you…” He breaks off.

Ghislain can sense the bigger conversation here, all the things Akira wants to ask. But he needs a shower, and Brian’s waiting at McDonald’s, and it’s all too much for right now. “I gotta go, okay? I’ll see you later.” He leans up for a quick kiss, to soften the blow.

The McDonald’s is bustling with athletes. Brian is sitting at one of the red plastic tables, looking like a cat that drank a whole gallon of cream.

“Nothing happened,” Ghislain says immediately.

“Nothing?” Brian asks. “Really?”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Ghislain says. “So I asked him if I could come over. We went to sleep together. That’s all.”

“Did you sleep better with him?”

“So much better,” Ghislain says. “I was out in a second.”

Brian smiles broadly. “That sounds perfect.”

There are two practices that day, one in the main rink and one in the practice hall. Yuzu is focused, eyes deadly serious, but when Brian makes a joke, he laughs along with all of them. More than ever, they feel like one unified organism, all striving towards the Olympic goal. It’s a powerful feeling, like nothing Ghislain has experienced before, and while it doesn’t ease his worries, it helps him see a little light in the distance.

Ghislain had thought of spending the night in his own bed, creating distance between himself and Akira so they both can focus on helping Yuzu tomorrow. But as soon as he gets back to his room, it’s like the walls are caving in on him. He throws some of his clothes and toiletries into a backpack and texts Akira _coming over, ok?_

_good,_ Akira texts back, but Ghislain doesn’t even see it until he’s at Akira’s door, the force of his nervousness propelling him down the hallway in an instant. Ghislain can see the same worries etched in the lines of Akira’s face, every fear about what will or won’t happen tomorrow. In some ways, this is the worst night, because so many possibilities are still open. Tomorrow, they’ll know better where they stand.

They don’t talk much. Akira moves around the room restlessly, organizing his papers and clothes, filling and plugging in the teakettle. Ghislain scrolls through his Facebook and finds too many posts about the Olympics, scrolls through his Instagram and runs into the same problem. He watches a few of Yuzu’s quads, just in case. Akira turns on the news, but turns it off immediately when the sports section shows a clip of Yuzu arriving flanked by bodyguards. Ghislain changes in the bathroom, awkwardly lingering over brushing his teeth to give Akira privacy. 

As soon as they climb into bed, Akira scoots close to Ghislain, slotting himself against Ghislain’s back and putting an arm over his waist. Ghislain is already so keyed up that the shockwaves running through him barely register. He breathes in, breathes out, letting himself relax in Akira’s arms.

“Ok?” Akira whispers.

“Ok.”

Akira’s breath is warm on the back of his head. Ghislain closes his eyes and leans back. Surrounded like this, there’s no room for his worried thoughts. He lets out a long, slow breath, feeling sleep pull him under like a current.

Ghislain wakes up a half hour before the alarm the next morning, adrenaline pumping through him. Today’s the day. He and Akira have shifted apart in sleep, so Ghislain can see his face, turned to one side and buried in the pillow. He stares for a long time. His thoughts are wild and meaningless, bouncing everywhere and landing nowhere. The deepest and most insistent part of him doesn’t want to leave this bed.

The alarm blares. Ghislain watches Akira blink awake gradually, rising to the surface from the depths of sleep. Akira’s eyes light up when he registers Ghislain’s presence, sending another kind of lightning bolt through Ghislain.

“Today’s the day,” Akira says, like he read Ghislain’s mind.

Akira bundles himself in a tracksuit that looks like a hug. Ghislain squeezes into his Team Japan suit and tie. “You look nice,” Akira says shyly, catching Ghislain completely off guard. He looks down at the bulk of himself, the one button that won’t stay buttoned over his stomach.

“Thanks,” he says, a beat too late.

The team assembles in the rink. Brian gathers them together for words of wisdom, like a general sending his troops to battle. Ghislain remembers Sochi, the way Brian seemed so self-conscious about being in charge of a team. Now he’s calm and self-assured.

“Trust in your training,” Brian tells them all. “Trust in what we’ve built. We, all of us, are part of something special here. The things we do every day—today is the day they bear fruit. We take them, and we use them to get off to a good start. I’m proud of how hard we’ve worked to get here, and I’m proud to be part of this team.”

It buoys Ghislain up, too, a temporary respite from his nerves. He glances at Yuzu’s stern profile, like a statue of a warrior; at Akira, poised and attentive like a lion crouching. If they’re ready, of course he’ll be ready too. He draws himself up to his full height, willing himself to be as strong as they are.

But in the three hours before Yuzu competes, Ghislain’s confidence drains out of him little by little. He keeps out of the way—guarding the bags, eating a snack, watching Akira lead Yuzu through their exercises. Every few minutes he realizes he’s tensing his shoulders and drops them down; the next minute they’re back around his ears again. He wants to talk to Akira, but Akira is occupied with helping Yuzu. It feels selfish, to be this worried, to need this much comfort. Today isn’t about him. It’s about Yuzu, and the rest of the athletes.

After an agonizing wait, the last group takes the ice for the six-minute warmup. Yuzu’s off like a shot the second they call his name, zooming up and down the ice. He lands a smooth quad toe, but steps out of the first quad sal he tries and bobbles another. Ghislain feels his heart plummet like a stone. A voice in his head rings out with the feeling of absolute certainty: _Yuzu’s about to fail._

Ghislain swallows hard, tamping down a wave of nausea. He glances to Akira, instinctively, but Akira has already moved to the side, standing with Ms. Kobayashi and one of the rink volunteers. Brian’s eyes are on Yuzu. It’s not like they can stop whatever’s about to happen, anyway. 

Ghislain composes himself for the handshake at the boards. His heart hammers at the first gentle note of the piano. He clings to the boards, fingers bloodless, as Yuzu proceeds to float elegantly through his short program. One beautiful jump, two beautiful jumps, the combo, the step sequence, easy as walking through a room. Ghislain can’t breathe, arms shaking, and then suddenly cheers erupt around him and Yuzu is coming off the ice, glowing and triumphant. Ghislain comes to himself to realize he’s been clapping enthusiastically, so hard his hands hurt. He was wrong. For all its certainty, that voice in his head was wrong.

“I’m back,” Yuzu tells Brian. Ghislain laughs in relief.

They perch in the kiss and cry, Yuzu sandwiched between them. Akira crouches off to the side, holding Yuzu’s backpack, and Ghislain has to tear his eyes away from his grin. He can still feel the force of it, though, like warm sunshine on his face.

“Yuzuru Hanyu has earned in the short program one hundred and eleven point six eight,” the announcer intones.

A hundred and eleven! It’s practically Yuzu’s record. “So close!” Ghislain exclaims, grabbing Yuzu’s hand and raising it in triumph. He wishes, suddenly, that he could go back and watch Yuzu skate again, without the pounding nerves. What was he thinking, that he was so certain Yuzu would fail? 

Backstage, Yuzu sprawls out, stretching his body like a cat. Akira crouches down beside him, kneading his shoulders and legs. When he’s finally loosened up, he heads for the showers, leaving Akira and Ghislain with the suitcases and about a billion Poohs.

Ghislain blows out a breath. “I need a drink.”

Akira rubs Ghislain’s back. “You were very nervous?”

“God, nervous doesn’t even begin to describe it. I was—“ he feels like an idiot, remembering it now. “Right before he started skating, I had this thought, _he’s gonna fail_. I was so sure.”

Before he can blink, Ghislain is being enveloped in a hug.

“I think this sometimes too,” Akira says. “Loving Yuzu is bad for our hearts, yes?”

“We’re too old for this,” Ghislain laughs.

“But, do you know the secret?” Akira asks. Ghislain shakes his head. “Yuzu always give his all, and when it’s the hardest, it’s when he gives the best. So I know he is going to do very well here, because things are hardest I’ve seen for him.”

“Yeah,” Ghislain says, feeling the truth of this sink into his bones. “Wish I was like that. When things get hard I just shrivel up and die.”

“I think you can,” Akira says, simple and firm. “I think you are more stronger than you think.”

Ghislain darts his eyes around. There’s a cameraman in one corner, some people from Nathan’s team on the other side of the room. So many people to see. He moves Yuzu’s big suitcase in front of their legs. Then he sneaks his hand into Akira’s and squeezes, hard. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to sleep with again tonight?” Akira asks, in a low voice.

“Only if you buy me a beer,” Ghislain quips, but Akira nods seriously. It always catches Ghislain off guard, the way Akira takes him at face value, accepting whatever he says.

There’s only one kind of beer in the Japan House commissary, but it’s cold and alcoholic, and that’s all that matters to Ghislain. He clinks his bottle against Akira’s, then takes a long pull. “To more success tomorrow.”

“To more success,” Akira echoes.

They drink mostly in silence, watching the curling on a TV in the lobby. Ghislain is as close to relaxed as he’s been all week. There are still things that could go wrong tomorrow, but Ghislain feels free to ignore his instincts of doom. Maybe the voice in his head is just his own fears, and not some kind of oracle from beyond.

Tonight, there’s no hesitation as they climb into bed. They both reach for each other, and Ghislain does what he’s been longing to do ever since the short program ended, planting a lingering kiss on Akira’s lips.

“Thanks for everything,” Ghislain says. “You’re—“ His head is flooded with embarrassing, too-intimate suggestions. “You’re a good person to have on the team,” he says instead.

Akira yawns, pulling Ghislain in so his head is resting on Akira’s chest. “You too.” 

Ghislain keeps his head there, thoughts ebbing and flowing as he settles down into sleep. He remembers a long-ago text he didn’t send, how he wanted to tell Akira that he couldn’t have survived the season without him. It’s true now, here, more than ever. He couldn’t do without Akira at these Olympics, where so much is at stake and he’s responsible for more than ever before. _I need you,_ he thinks, nuzzling his head into Akira’s shirt, and then hastily un-thinks it. It’s too much, to need and want Akira both. It’s more than he meant to take from Akira, it requires more than he wants to give of himself. 

It’s just for the Olympics, he reminds himself. Just to survive this week, just to enjoy while he can. Then he’ll let it go, walk it back, and continue with simple friendship. He yawns, enormous, and loses himself to deep sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ghislain really did help Yuzu fix his jumps by suggesting he train the triple axel, and he really did land it on the first try - thanks to a Japanese documentary for the scoop. The detail about the unicycle club is true too, from an interview Akira did after the 2018 Olympics. Thanks to everyone on Twitter who translates these things and gives us fic writers the material we crave.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second half of the Olympics, where Yuzu's victory unleashes a newfound freedom in Ghislain and time spent with Akira has to be enjoyed while it lasts.

When Ghislain wakes up on the morning of the Olympic free skate, he has the strangest feeling, a total sense of calm. His unsettled thoughts from the night before have vanished, like rain clouds parting to let in the sun. Akira seems calm too, packing his backpack like it’s an ordinary day.

Brian shoots them a look when they arrive to the team meeting together. “Did you sleep well?” he asks.

“Will you quit it with that?” Ghislain says, just as Akira is saying, “Yes, thank you.”

Brian laughs. “Sorry. I really didn’t mean anything by it this time. I just wondered if you were too nervous to sleep.”

“No, I slept like a baby,” Ghislain says. “I think today’s going to be a good day.”

“Good,” Brian says. If his smile is a little smug, well, Ghislain will let it slide just this once.

The time before the final group seems even longer today. Ghislain paces the halls for a while before heading in to the room where Akira is helping Yuzu warm up. Yuzu is stretching, face down in child’s pose. Akira waves when he spots Ghislain, hurrying to open up a chair for Ghislain to sit in. 

Ghislain tries to get Akira to sit too, but Akira waves him off. “I have to watch Yuzu.”

They both watch as Yuzu tosses a ball in the air, lifting his arms in triumph when he catches it. He seems loose today, mimicking other skaters’ warmups and mouthing along to the music blasting in his headphones. 

Ghislain gazes fondly at Akira helping Yuzu balance on a block of wood. He’s in awe, yet again, of how incredibly good Akira is at his job. It’s more than just the massages, or the ankle taping, or the presence of someone who’s known Yuzu his entire life. It’s how every piece works together to prepare Yuzu, finely tuned to meet Yuzu’s needs. It’s how the physical training seems to calm Yuzu mentally too, making a better headspace possible. 

He’s startled by a hand on his shoulder. It’s Brian.

“You’re staring,” Brian says.

“Sorry, it’s just—“ Ghislain gestures towards Akira and Yuzu. “These things are amazing. I don’t know how he comes up with them.”

Brian grins. “I guess it is pretty neat. Helps us do our jobs better, right?”

Akira glances over at the two of them and flashes a smile—brighter for Ghislain, he decides.

Ghislain nods. “Yeah, it’s a big help.”

At long last, it’s time for the final group. They enter the arena, a fierce procession. The energy of the crowd crackles around them like electricity.

Yuzu starts his warmup with speed, zooming around the rink like he’s trying to take flight. After a few preliminary jumps, he tries the quad salchow. His axis is off, and he wobbles wildly on one leg. He tries another, and slips on the landing, sitting down on the ice. The third one he tries is shaky too. It’s even worse than the last warmup.

Ghislain swallows hard, glancing at Akira instinctively. Yuzu’s strategy depends on his two quads being picture-perfect. On most days, they are. For the quad sal to leave him now, right at this most crucial moment, spells disaster. If he can’t land the quad sals in his program, it could knock him from the top spot…

It’s as if a hand from above reaches down and turns off the babbling of his fearful thoughts. In its place is a calm certainty. If Yuzu is messing up the sal, he doesn’t have to stand by and worry. He’s maybe the one person in this building who can actually help. He pulls up the sal footage on his phone and beckons Yuzu over.

Yuzu watches the video with a stern expression, like he’s committing it to memory. “Trust yourself,” Ghislain tells him. “You know what to do. It’s like the axel, right? It’s inside you. Just trust.” Yuzu throws him a grateful look.

When Yuzu takes the ice for his free skate, drawing his fingers to his lips, that steadfast peace is still enveloping Ghislain. He watches raptly, eyes on Yuzu’s every move. 

Yuzu’s skated this program so many times before that Ghislain knows it inside and out. He’s skated it tentatively, boldly, aggressively, frantically. Today, he skates it triumphantly, like a conquering hero.

The program builds, from understated confidence to something more and more declarative. _Look at me. Here I am. Don’t look away._ Ghislain hangs on each of Yuzu’s jumps, leaping when he lands them. With each one, Ghislain can feel certainty growing. This Seimei may not be perfect today, but it’ll be enough. 

The final choreo sequence is a masterpiece of joy and triumph. Yuzu is skating with pure, utter freedom, and Ghislain can’t tear his eyes away. He feels his own heart opening in response, his worries lightening. Everything they feared, every obstacle and roadblock and setback, his own failures—in the end, none of that matters. Yuzu’s reached his goal. 

The final drumbeat hits, a thud like the beat of Ghislain’s own heart, and the audience goes wild. Ghislain turns around and sees Akira standing there, applauding and cheering. Before he can think, he throws his arms around him. Ghislain can feel Akira’s heart pounding underneath his parka.

“He did it!” Ghislain exclaims. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah!” Akira’s voice is hoarse.

Ghislain only lets go because he hears Yuzu gliding towards them, his squeal of relief as he collapses into Brian’s arms. A moment later, it’s Ghislain’s turn to embrace Yuzu. A wild, instinctive yell comes from deep in his throat. As they walk over to the kiss and cry, he tries to say it in words too, how immensely proud he is of everything Yuzu has done. Yuzu’s giddy grin tells him that he’s been heard.

The scores are almost an afterthought. Ghislain knows Yuzu’s won. But it’s still satisfying to sit in the kiss and cry with him and see those numbers come up, fist-pumping in triumph when the announcer says, “First place!” Once the cameras are off him, Yuzu folds in half, exhausted. Ghislain rubs his back for as long as he can, trying to give him back a little of the strength he expended. 

“You did it again,” he tells Yuzu. “Like I said. They didn’t know what hit ‘em.”

Yuzu smiles at him, eyes brimming, and it’s like Ghislain has won the gold, too. “I did it! Yeah!” 

They all bundle up warmly for the victory ceremony. Ghislain’s heart squeezes when he sees Akira with a Team Japan hat pulled down over his ears and an orange parka on top of his white one. They match, now. They take advantage of the crowd to lean into each other, pressing their puffy down sleeves together as they watch Yuzu receive his gold medal. Ghislain is so wildly proud—of Yuzu, of the whole Cricket team, of himself for stepping in to help and not ruining anything. Tears well in his eyes, and he hears a suspicious sniffle from Akira. They clap and scream with the rest of the audience. Akira links his pinky finger with Ghislain’s, squeezing twice before letting go.

It’s not enough contact for Ghislain. He wants to hold Akira, tip him back and kiss him hard like a leading man in an old movie. In this wild, joyous mood, everything about him and Akira together feels perfectly right, something to enjoy rather than fear. In a world where Yuzu and his beat-up ankle can win a second Olympic gold medal, what obstacles to anything else could there possibly be? He longs to give in rather than resist. 

There’s a victory party in the dining room of the Team Japan house. Someone pulls up a j-rock playlist on their phone and the room fills with peppy guitars. They bring out beer and soju and champagne, and a pitcher of orange juice for Yuzu. Ghislain meets Yuzu’s grandparents, his dad, his sister. Yuzu keeps coming up to him and thanking him profusely, trying to start a conversation about his quad sal.

“It’s okay, you did well,” Ghislain says. “That was you, not me. That was your strength. So enjoy it, okay?” Yuzu nods, leaning in for another hug. Ghislain ruffles his hair.

Throughout the party, Ghislain is aware of Akira, hovering on the edges of his vision. They don’t talk much, both caught up in other conversations, but their eyes meet often, like there’s an invisible thread pulling them together. Ghislain is tipsy on relief and beer, and looking at Akira starts a warm tingle in his belly, stronger with every glance.

Yuzu leaves to sleep, and the rest of his family isn’t far behind. Ghislain has no idea how late it is. He feels lively and awake, despite the long day. Brian disappears too, throwing a wink at Ghislain. Soon enough, it’s just Ghislain and Akira, and a couple bored-looking staff members picking up empty bottles. Akira is helping them, bending down to retrieve a discarded plastic cup. When he straightens up, his eyes meet Ghislain’s. It’s like an electric shock, sending a jolt through Ghislain’s whole body. He knows, then, that he’s not the only one who feels freed tonight.

In unspoken agreement, they leave the dining room together. Possibilities thrum through Ghislain’s blood, making his heart pound with anticipation. They hold hands as they walk down the dark hallway, closer and closer to Akira’s room.

The door barely shuts behind them before they’re reaching for each other. Ghislain pushes Akira back against it, leaning up to kiss him hard. Akira cradles Ghislain’s face, fingers rubbing the back of his neck as they kiss. It’s deep and intense, in a way it hasn’t been before. They’re breathing heavily almost immediately, breaking apart only to dive back in again.

Ghislain’s head is spinning with alcohol and desire. He’s working on instinct, his mind a whirring blank. His body knows what has to happen, though, what it’s been longing for since the last time he and Akira were tipsy together. He pulls away and grabs Akira by the hand, gently tugging him into the room.

“Buri,” Akira says, not quite a question.

Ghislain guides them both towards the bed. “Come on, let’s—“ He pushes at the hem of Akira’s sweatshirt. “Take this off.”

A glow of understanding lights up Akira’s eyes, and something else too, a brightness Ghislain can barely look at.

It’s awkward, undeniably. It’s clumsy, and new, and Ghislain can’t figure out what to do with his arms. They’re both so tired and tipsy Ghislain is afraid it might not happen at all. But—to be held by Akira, to be touched tenderly yet passionately and to touch back—it’s incredible, too. In a strange way, the awkward collisions make it better, like they’re two travelers finding a road together. The unleashed longing in Akira’s every expression sets Ghislain’s heart soaring, giddy and disbelieving. How is he the one making Akira feel this way? How is it his name Akira is first murmuring, then gasping?

Nothing matters, for those eternal moments in Akira’s bed. Not one thing, besides the two of them, like this. If Ghislain could think, he might be terrified. But he lets the wave sweep over him, lets it carry them both out to sea. When they wash up on the shore, panting and spent, it’s the easiest thing in the world to curl up together, Ghislain’s head on Akira’s chest. They drift off to sleep easily, Ghislain fully at peace for the first time all week.

The next morning, Ghislain wakes first. He’s still curled against Akira’s side. Akira is snoring, loud next to Ghislain’s ear. Ghislain has a cramp in his neck, and a headache, and he’s starving. Memories of last night come back to him like dreams, hazy and impossible. The freedom and longing feels farther away, something that happened to someone else.

Ghislain shifts, trying to stretch his shoulder. Akira’s eyelids flutter at the movement, and he shifts too, rolling slightly away from Ghislain. Ghislain closes his eyes again, pretending he’s asleep. He doesn’t want to look Akira in the eyes in daylight, to watch Akira remember what they did. Sex brought them closer than Ghislain was ready for, right to the center of those feelings he still hasn’t talked about. He really doesn’t want to talk about them now.

“Ohayo,” Akira says sleepily. “Awake?”

Ghislain opens his eyes reluctantly. “Yeah.” 

Akira is grinning down at him fondly. “Sleep good?”

“Yeah. But yesterday wore me out.” Ghislain means the free skate, but in the long pause that follows, he realizes what other tiring things Akira could be thinking of. “Helping Yuzu, I mean. I’m glad we’re done.”

“Yes,” Akira says hastily. “Now we have time for other thing. Like, hmm—“ He twists around to look at the clock on the nightstand. “Like team breakfast, I think.”

Ghislain smiles. Maybe they don’t have to talk about it. Maybe they can just go along in this bright new champion’s world and enjoy what’s happening while it lasts. “Definitely team breakfast. I’m starving.”

The dining hall is bright and too loud, hundreds of athletes talking at once. Brian pulls Ghislain aside and hisses under his breath. “You have to tell me everything.”

“How’d you know?” Ghislain says.

“I saw how he was looking at you at the party,” Brian says.

Ghislain blushes. “You’re not getting details. I don’t love you that much.”

Brian snorts. “Fine, but—thumbs up? Thumbs down? So bad you’ll never talk to him again?”

“It wouldn’t have been like that,” Ghislain says. “It was going to be good no matter what happened. And it was. I—“ He trails off, thinking about the connection, the way the entire world faded away. “It was really good,” he says.

Brian has a fond, thoughtful look on his face. “Good. You deserve it.”

****  
There are eight more days of the Olympics, and Ghislain is staying for all of them. He’s in charge of supervising Team Cricket at the gala practices, and besides, he wanted to get the full Olympic experience. He regrets not staying for the closing ceremony in Sochi. And now there’s this thing with Akira, this joyful, liberated experience that’s new and unfolding.

Ghislain knows, rationally, that the Olympics are an exception. There’s a reason why it’s notorious for hookups, he sees now. These few weeks are a break from the ordinary, where everyone’s on top of the world, high on achievement and victory. The Olympics makes the impossible possible. And now that he’s here, Ghislain wants to take advantage of it. This time is both the start and end of anything besides friendship with Akira. He’s got to enjoy it while it lasts.

Although they never discuss it outright, Akira seems to understand this too. He keeps suggesting ways to spend as much time together as possible. They go watch the short dance together, Ghislain with a Canadian flag and Akira with a Japanese one. Akira sets their coats on the armrest between them, and halfway through the first group Ghislain feels Akira’s hand sneak over and grab his. Their fingers stay intertwined for the rest of the event, as they talk skating and argue about their favorite dance teams.

They walk around the Olympic village, looking at everything they didn’t have time to see before. They take a short trip to see some Buddhist temples Akira has heard about, just outside the Olympic park. They eat all their meals together, sometimes with others but often just the two of them. Every night, they’re intertwined, exploring each other’s bodies, with a frantic intensity Ghislain hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. It’s almost too much, these days, like something they aren’t supposed to have. _A honeymoon,_ Ghislain thinks once, immediately shoving the thought away. But Ghislain is still determined to take the sweetness while it lasts. The end will be hard, but the present is lovely.

Even gala practice is fun. Yuzu’s exuberance bubbles over, and he messes around with the other athletes, playing games and challenging them to races. He keeps coming over to pester Ghislain and Akira, chattering to them nonstop. He even ropes them in for selfies, chortling with delight when they make silly faces.

Watching Yuzu’s freedom on the ice fills Ghislain with warmth and pride. This seems like a lasting victory, one that unlocked something new in him. Or something old—Yuzu’s antics make Ghislain wonder what it was like to train Yuzu as a child.

“Was Yuzu like this when you first met him?” he asks Akira, the two of them leaning on the boards and watching Yuzu chase Javi around the ice.

“Sometimes,” Akira says. “He was so wild, he just want to play. Yumi tell me every week, ‘If you like him, you can have him for free.’” He cracks up, his eyes crinkling shut. “But he also was—more intense. More than now, I think.”

“Really?” Ghislain can’t imagine it.

“He want to do so many things. Quad axel, quints, win two Olympics, be better than Plushenko. He want to do them all right away. It was hard for him to struggle when he want to be good. Now he get so many of his dreams.” Akira has a faraway look in his eye. “Not all his dreams, he have a lot more, and not just with skating. But—he is champion now, like he wanted to be. So he can relax, a little bit.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Ghislain says, mostly to himself. “Getting something you wanted even if it was totally impractical.”

“Yeah,” Akira says, absently.

“Maybe it’ll happen to us one day, eh?”

Akira’s expression is unreadable. “Maybe.”

Ghislain zones out, watching practice with his chin on his hands. It gets boring after a while. He turns to say something about this to Akira and finds Akira gazing at him.

“What?” Ghislain demands.

“I think—I need to get something from other room,” Akira says. “And you should come with me. To get it.”

This is how Ghislain finds himself in a small storage closet, kissing Akira like he’ll die if he stops. It feels impossibly teenaged, although Ghislain never did anything like this when he was younger. He lets Akira push him against one wall of the closet, kiss him sloppy and deep, run his hands all over his body. Like this, there’s no space in his mind to think about how the Olympics is ending, or wonder how he’s going to give this up. He just kisses back, with all the fervor he possesses.

Ghislain tries to shift their bodies so Akira’s the one against the wall, but he accidentally backs into a metal shelf. It clangs so loudly they both stop dead, hands over their mouths. But no one seems to be around, and after a while they both breathe again, giggling nervously.

“I guess we have to go back,” Akira says.

Ghislain reaches for him. “Just one more kiss.”

When they return to the gala practice, much later, it’s almost over. Skaters are taking selfies, striking increasingly elaborate poses. Yuzu skates past holding a fan. He does an elaborate twisting motion with his arms, making the fan dance, and skids to a stop.

“You left,” he pouts.

“We had to,” Ghislain pauses slightly too long, “take care of something.”

Yuzu nods solemnly. Then he turns a stream of teasing Japanese on Akira, who flushes and leans over to fiddle with the tissue case. Ghislain flushes too, suddenly hot with guilt. The way Akira is reacting, there’s only one thing Yuzu could be teasing him about. Are they really being that obvious? Ghislain has been thinking of this as something sectioned off, separate not only from their real lives but from the notice of others. Yuzu’s giggle as he torments Akira pierces that bubble.

It makes Ghislain awkward and stiff during the gala, and at the closing ceremony later that day. He’s afraid of standing too close to Akira, too nervous to touch him the way he has the past few days. In his mind, every camera is trained on them, every fond or curious look from the other members of team Japan is because they’ve realized. It’s paranoid, he knows, but he can’t stop thinking about it.

Akira is quiet too, at first, sensing Ghislain’s reluctance. They walk apart from each other, waving to the crowd perfunctorily. Ghislain can see Yuzu up ahead, bouncing along next to Keiji. 

After a little while, the crowd drifts, and Ghislain and Akira end up near each other again. Ghislain glances at Akira’s face, at the light glinting off his glasses, and feels a tug of warmth. He doesn’t want to waste their last night together. He moves toward Akira, knocking their arms together. Akira’s answering smile is as bright as the spotlights.

When Team Japan pauses at the end of the parade, gathering together to take photos, Ghislain agrees to let one of the volunteers take his photo with Akira. They stand next to each other, grinning sheepishly. A sense of ending overwhelms Ghislain. He hands over his phone for another picture and moves in closer to Akira.

That night in Akira’s room, they cling to each other. They don’t talk about it, but they both know what’s coming. Yuzu is skipping Worlds to heal his ankle, and Ghislain hardly ever attends the Grand Prix events. The next time they see each other could very well be Worlds in 2019. This thing between them, whatever it is, is coming to an end tonight. When they wake up tomorrow, they’ll fade back to ordinary friendship, two colleagues supporting each other like everyone else on Team Cricket.

_I’ll always be fond of him,_ Ghislain thinks, as Akira kisses his neck softly. _But it just couldn’t be. I’m glad we had these moments, but they couldn’t last forever._ It makes him feel noble and melancholy, the hero of a romantic tragedy. He runs his hands along the slope of Akira’s back, committing it to memory.

Akira is as tender as he ever is, but he must be feeling melancholy too. He holds onto Ghislain with sweet ferocity, surrounding him with his body. They stretch things out as long as they can, time bending and expanding as they move together. There’s no sound in the hotel room except their heavy breath, rising and falling in unison. Ghislain cries out Akira’s name, a sharp warmth tearing through him. They collapse onto the pillows, still holding onto each other.

Ghislain’s alarm buzzes too early the next morning. He hauls himself out of bed and shuffles to the shower, cleaning off the traces of last night before he gets on the plane. The impending goodbye is like a weight on his chest, heavy and implacable.

When he gets out of the shower, Akira is awake too, sitting up in bed. He smiles at Ghislain sadly. Ghislain leans over to give him one last hug, longer than he means it to be.

“I’ll see you,” Akira says into Ghislain’s shoulder.

Ghislain straightens up and reaches for the handle of his suitcase. “Take care.” As he walks out of the room, he doesn’t look back.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the chickens come home to roost, and Ghislain has to deal with the consequences. Luckily, he’s got people who are willing to help.

Just like that, it’s over. Ghislain sleeps ten of the fourteen hours on the plane ride back, missing lunch and dinner and most of the in-flight movies. When he gets back to Toronto, he sleeps for another eight. The next morning, he wakes up with a raspy cough, feeling like his head’s been stuffed with cotton. He spends most of the next five days in bed with a terrible cold, flipping weakly through TV channels and dozing on and off. Brian’s sick too, and so is Jun. The excitement of the Olympics has laid them all low.

Once he’s feeling better, it’s back to work at the club. With the Olympics over, things have calmed down significantly. Ghislain plans to coast into the offseason, give himself the gift of not working too hard. He could use a little boredom after a winter full of excitement.

He keeps thinking about the Olympics, though. The energy of the crowd after Yuzu skated, the glee of Yuzu’s smile on top of the podium. Being surrounded by skaters and coaches and teams, the shared sense of achievement and sportsmanship. Akira’s little room, with the teakettle and the grey blinds and the soft bed.

He doesn’t let himself think too much about Akira. Their texts are the same friendly, informative messages they were before the Olympics. If anything, they’re less frequent now, because Akira seems to be in high demand: presenting at a chiropractors’ conference, running the health services at an Ice Rink Sendai skating clinic, taking a trip to Hokkaido that the Hanyus gave him as an Olympic thank-you. It doesn’t leave a lot of time for texting, and Ghislain is grateful. It’s easier to make a clean break this way, remember they have separate lives that drive them apart.

Still. Sometimes he wakes up in the middle of the night, sweating and panting, and knows he’s been dreaming about Akira. Akira’s lips, Akira’s hands, Akira gentle and giving and passionate. There’s an almost unbearable ache in his heart at those times. Why did he let this happen in the first place, when he knew he was going to have to end it? He knows it’s better this way for him, for both of them. In the sober light of day, he knows this. But at night, jerking awake from a dream of Akira’s arms, it’s harder to remember why.

Work keeps him focused, grounded in reality. He’s grateful for the daily routine at the club like never before. And in mid-March, Yuzu returns from Japan, that Olympic glow still hovering around him. It’s infectious—everyone at the club wants to talk to him, to spend time with him. 

Yuzu can’t jump yet, but Ghislain stops and watches with everyone as he runs through old footwork sequences. He’s bringing them back for his ice show, something to do with his skating past and future, and even without jumps they’re captivating. Ghislain envies Yuzu’s pride in these old programs. When Ghislain was Yuzu’s age, everything he’d done as a child and a teen was embarrassing to him, not worth celebrating.

Before too long the club quiets down again. Brian and the team leave for Worlds, to be followed by Brian’s well-deserved vacation. Yuzu returns to Japan for his ice show. Ghislain’s juniors have exams before spring break. There’s something soothing about the rink now, with only a few students there. Ghislain likes to get there early and have a cup of coffee in one of the big armchairs. He watches the Zamboni lumber across the ice, the whirr and swish drowning out his thoughts.

One morning, as he sips his coffee, his phone buzzes with a message from Akira. _free to talk?_

Ghislain’s heart pounds. _everything okay?_

_yes, don’t worry. talk for good reason :-)_

Ghislain lets out a deep breath, but his heart is still racing. He’s not sure he’s ready to see Akira’s face again. _ok_

A minute later, the video call comes through.

“Hi, Buri,” Akira croons. His smile stretches the length of Ghislain’s phone screen. Ghislain swallows hard.

“Hey,” he says. “What’s up?”

“So, I just talk to Yuzu yesterday,” Akira says. “His rehab is really good. They saying, he can do Fantasy on Ice too now. It’s going to be good for him to skate more, like that.”

“Oh, that’s amazing,” Ghislain says. It makes a nice change to have Akira call him about Yuzu recovering well, instead of Yuzu getting hurt. “Thanks for—“

Akira keeps talking. “So, I’m going on tour, of course. I know Brian is coming for second half again this year.”

“Yeah, we have some stuff to do at the end of May,” Ghislain says. “Camps and stuff. So he’s going after that.”

“So, I’m thinking to ask you—“ Akira’s voice turns teasing. “Maybe my boyfriend wants to come on tour with me for second half too?”

Ghislain freezes. “Wait, what? Your—what?”

Akira blinks at him. “My boyfriend. You.”

The bottom drops out of Ghislain’s stomach. “I’m not your boyfriend.”

Akira’s face changes in an instant, eyes widening and mouth flattening into a grim little line. There’s a long pause. “What you mean?”

“I—we’re not dating. Why would you think we were dating?”

“Are you forget about Olympics?” Akira demands. “Every night you sleep in my bed, every day you kiss me, you hold my hand. This isn’t dating?”

“No, it’s—“

“Oh, you just have fun with me?” Akira’s voice gets higher. “I am just for sex to you?”

“No,” Ghislain starts to protest.

“So, what? We’re not boyfriends, but you say we’re not just sex? What is that?”

“It’s—“ Ghislain takes a deep breath, tries to think. “It was a one-time thing,” he says finally.

Akira’s eyes narrow.

“You know we can’t actually be together,” Ghislain says quickly. “We have our jobs, we have our own lives. We both know this can’t actually work, with us.”

“I don’t know this thing,” Akira says, simple and pointed.

“We live halfway around the world from each other—“

“Wait,” Akira says, the word like ice down Ghislain’s back. “You think these things, and you still kissing me? You still sleep with me? Why?”

“I—“

“You don’t want us to happen, why do you start?”

Ghislain’s reasons seem shabby. “I wanted to see what it was like,” he says finally.

Akira’s face is like stone. “And then you never do again?”

“I mean. I figured we’d get it out of our system. And then we could go back to normal.”

Akira stares into the camera for a long time. “Fuck you,” he says finally, with the bitter force of an incantation.

Ghislain sputters.

“Out of your system? One-time thing?” Akira’s voice is loud and shrill. “I thought you see me as real person. But no, you don’t really caring about me.”

“I do care about you,” Ghislain protests.

Akira shakes his head. “You don’t thinking about me at all. You just think about yourself.”

“Oh, and you’re not? Why didn’t you say something, if you wanted to be boyfriends so bad?”

Akira looks at him shrewdly. “Would you have said yes, if I asked?”

Ghislain hesitates.

“That’s what I thought,” Akira says.

Ghislain can feel the conversation slipping away from him. “You still should have said something,” he says.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Akira says. “Don’t get started saying I should have done this, should have done that. Maybe you should not have kiss me, if you don’t mean anything.”

“Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have! Is that what you want to hear?”

“I don’t want to hear anything from you,” Akira says, voice fraying. “I don’t—“

“Fine,” Ghislain snaps. “I won’t say anything.”

“Good,” Akira says. “You can get your wish. We are not boyfriends. Maybe we are not friends either. We are not anything.”

“Good,” Ghislain echoes. “Fine.”

“Oh, that’s all you say? Then goodbye, _Ghislain_,” Akira says, spitting out the name like an insult. “I’m done with this. Goodbye.”

“Good—“ Ghislain can’t get the full word out before Akira hangs up on him. He flings the phone down on the arm of the chair. His stomach is churning and his heart is racing. He feels like he’s been caught in a tornado, whirled through the air and spit out. He takes deep breaths, trying to calm himself, but he feels worse and worse the longer he sits there.

_What’s the problem here?_ he asks himself. He didn’t want to date Akira anyway, for the million reasons that somehow never occurred to Akira. They had to end some way. And now they have. There’s no reason he should feel like this about getting what he wanted.

The grandfather clock in the lounge chimes behind him, reminding him that he has a fucking class to teach. He hauls himself out of the chair and shuffles to put on his skates.

The juniors today are exceptionally stupid. Their free legs are all wrong, and they can’t seem to follow the simplest instructions. Ghislain can’t wait for the day to be over.

“Hold your position when you land! How many times do I have to tell you?” he yells at Stephen.

Stephen looks at him with open alarm, and Paige turns her head from the other side of the room, brow furrowed. Ghislain comes back to himself with a thud. Stephen’s just a kid, he doesn’t need to be yelled at like this.

“Sorry,” he tells Stephen, who blinks at him gratefully. “Must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed today. Try it again.”

The day drags, but eventually it ends. That churning, dizzy feeling from earlier comes back as he drives home. By the time he’s on his doorstep, it’s so overwhelming he can barely breathe. He unlocks the door and turns on the light. Maybe he just needs a drink.

Most of the time, Ghislain doesn’t think about those brief hours Akira spent in his condo. He’s had this place for over a decade, so it’s just his home most of the time. It’d take more than dinner and drinks to imprint the memory of another person on its rooms.

But when Ghislain steps into the kitchen, he’s clobbered with the memory of Akira sitting there. The way their knees knocked together, crowded under the small table. Eating Yumi’s food, talking and laughing. He feels like he’s going to throw up. What’s wrong with him?

He sifts through his pile of takeout menus, looking for anything vaguely appealing. Bitterness floods through his heart, gushing from an unknown source. He checks his phone before he calls for a pizza. No messages, of course.

Ghislain is too old to act like this, eating junk food and drinking beer because he’s upset. But something in him has profoundly stopped caring. He pops the top off a bottle and slumps at the kitchen table.

The beer only heightens the feelings. After the first few swallows, Ghislain abruptly feels like crying. He shouldn’t be this cut up over something that was inevitable, he tells himself. He knew it was going to be tough to give up Akira, after the times they shared together. He didn’t know it was going to be this stark, or that Akira would be this upset, but still. He should have anticipated some of this. He should have—

He should have stopped himself from kissing Akira, he realizes abruptly. He shouldn’t have tried to have what he could, if he couldn’t have it all. He could have moved away slightly, pretended not to see Akira’s arm around him, the way he thought about doing at first. He could have told Akira outright that he liked him a lot, but that he didn’t think a relationship would ever work. So many better choices, ones that didn’t back him into this impossible corner.

Why did he choose what he did, then? It nags at him. He’d been so worried for Yuzu, and so grateful to Akira, that he’d been thrust into this other world where his ordinary concerns didn’t matter. The idea that Akira might return his feelings was intoxicating. And he’d—he’d just wanted to, is what it came down to, like he’d told Akira.

No wonder Akira thinks he’s selfish. His only concern had been himself—his feelings, his desires. Without ever saying anything, Ghislain had expected them both to be on the same page. But—Ghislain shudders as he thinks about what Akira must have thought. He can’t fault Akira for assuming they were dating. He would have done the same, had the tables been turned.

God, he really is an asshole. Akira was right to hang up on him. Ghislain is a little bit drunk now, pizza notwithstanding, but it feels right to be drunk on a weeknight, considering that he is an asshole. He luxuriates in self-hatred, chewing meditatively on a pizza crust.

Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Ghislain was a jerk to Akira, and that’s just an objective fact. But even if he had been nicer, things would still be the same. They can’t date, and it’s probably better for them not to be friends either. Sure, Ghislain took a horrible path to get there, but this is what had to happen all along. He swallows heavily, head in his hands. Now he can toughen up and get over it. 

****  
The next two weeks feel like they last a hundred years. Ghislain drags himself through the days. Every morning when he wakes up, his heart feels like a stone, plummeting to the bottom of a pit. Every evening when he goes to bed, that same heavy, dropping feeling is there. He hasn’t felt this bad in a long, long time.

There are no messages from Akira. Ghislain is too afraid to send any, to try and elicit a response. Texting and being deliberately ignored would be worse than this unbroken silence. So he goes along, not saying anything. 

Ghislain tries hard not to take it out on the kids. He can’t fix the mistakes he made with Akira, but he can keep himself from being an asshole to his students. Sometimes he’s just going through the motions, but he mostly keeps himself from yelling or snapping at them. It’s about the only thing he’s proud of, lately.

Mostly, he’s sleepwalking through the days, putting one foot in front of the other with hazy persistence. He feels unmoored, like nothing in his life is stable. Without the updates from Akira, he has no idea what Yuzu is up to, and he feels awkward about messaging Yuzu directly. Brian is on vacation with Raj in Bali, and Ghislain doesn’t want to bother him. Brian doesn’t need to be reading texts about Ghislain’s problems while he’s lounging on a beach.

The offseason lull has already started, with fewer students and no competitions in sight. Ghislain has the sickening feeling that his life will just be this from now on, an endless fog of nothing with no landmarks or guideposts. He knows he’s being dramatic, wallowing and sulking like a teenager, but he can’t seem to stop himself.

Brian finally returns at the end of April with renewed spring in his step. He comes into the Cricket Club with a smile for everyone. Ghislain groans inwardly. It’ll be hard enough facing Brian’s sly winks and nudges about Akira; it’ll be even worse if he’s this energetic.

Luckily, Brian doesn’t tease during the session. “Drinks later?” he whispers as he skates past Ghislain during a stroking exercise, and Ghislain nods. Truth be told, it will be good to talk to Brian. It’s these kind of moments that call for drinks with your best and oldest friend.

“So,” Brian singsongs as they slide into their booth at the pub. He has that same shit-eating grin on his face as he did that morning when Akira and Ghislain came down together.

“God, I can’t do this right now,” Ghislain mutters. “Can you just tell me about Bali for fifteen minutes or something?”

Brian’s face drops immediately into an exaggerated look of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I—“ It’s so patently a lie that Ghislain can’t get out a whole sentence. “No.”

“Is your family okay?”

“Yeah, god, everyone’s fine. I would have called you if it was something like that.”

“But you didn’t want to call me about this? There’s cell service in Bali, Ghislain, I was in a resort. I had faster Wi-Fi than I do at the club.”

“You were on vacation,” Ghislain protests. “You work like a dog all year, and you barely get any time with Raj, and I didn’t want to interrupt you with things that could wait until you got back.”

“Something happened with Akira, didn’t it?” Brian’s brow is furrowed. “Did he dump you? I can kick his ass.”

“Why does everyone think we were dating?” Ghislain asks. “You know I couldn’t date him. We had, like, seventeen conversations about that.”

“I thought you changed your mind,” Brian says. “I mean, I know you had all these reasons why it wasn’t going to work, but it seemed like you were going for it anyway. You know, the way you were at the Olympics.”

“People hook up at the Olympics.”

“You said you didn’t want to just hook up with Akira,” Brian says, which is infuriatingly true. “I figured you had found a way to make it work. But you really weren’t together? Something happened?”

“I—I wasn’t trying to date him,” Ghislain admits. “I thought I’d just…just have a good time with him while I could, and then we could move on.” He looks down at the table, not wanting to meet Brian’s eyes. “I thought he was on board with that. But—he wasn’t. So.”

Brian’s quiet for so long that Ghislain gets nervous. He looks up to see Brian staring into his beer, brow furrowed.

“I know I was an asshole,” Ghislain says, spurred on by Brian’s silence. “I didn’t think he’d actually want to date me, because of everything—but then he called me and invited me to the Fantasy on Ice tour and was calling me his boyfriend, and then when I told him we weren’t dating he got really mad at me, and we had a huge fight, and he hung up on me and I haven’t heard from him since.” He swallows around a lump in his throat. “And that was almost three weeks ago.”

Brian reaches across the table and squeezes Ghislain’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Ghislain squeezes back. “I thought you were going to call me an idiot.”

“Oh, you are an idiot,” Brian says. “But getting dumped still sucks even if it’s your own fault.”

“I don’t understand why I still feel this bad,” Ghislain says. “I mean, yeah, I was horrible to him. I deserve to feel bad about that.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” Brian says automatically. “People fuck up in relationships, it’s what happens. What did he say when you apologized?”

“I haven’t apologized,” Ghislain says. “Like I said, we haven’t talked. I just…wanted to leave him alone.”

“Really?”

“I don’t think we can be friends again,” Ghislain says. It hurts to admit, but it’s true. “It just makes me want things I can’t have. I’ve just gotta—get over him, move on, get back to normal life.”

Brian stares at him. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to be understanding, but…are you listening to any of the words you’re saying?”

“What?”

“You want to date him, don’t you? If all the other stuff was out of the way, you’d be with him. Right?”

The truth of it hits Ghislain right between the eyes. He’s been squashing it down, ignoring it, pushing it to the side. But when it comes right down to it— “Yes. Yeah, I would.”

“And he wants to date you.”

“Want_ed_,” Ghislain corrects. “I’m not so sure he does anymore.”

“Maybe,” Brian says. “Maybe not.”

“What’s your point?” Ghislain is snippier than he means to be.

“There doesn’t have to be a problem here,” Brian says. “You could apologize to him. You could tell him you do, actually, want to date him, you were just worried about how to make it work or whatever. And then you could ride off into the sunset with your handsome Japanese man and live the fucking dream.”

“I—“ Ghislain doesn’t feel like rehashing the arguments they’ve had about this. “Really?”

“It’s your life,” Brian says. “I’m not going to tell you how to live it. All I'm saying is—it’s okay to try something, even if you don’t think it’s going to work. It’s okay to admit you want something. Don’t spend your whole life moping over something you could have had if you went for it. You deserve better than that.”

Ghislain swallows, blinking away the blurriness rising in his eyes. “Thanks.”

“I know it’s hard. It’s the hardest thing in the world. But—it’s worth it, believe me. Even just trying is worth it.”

“I…I will,” Ghislain says. “I mean, I’ll see if I can or not. But. I’ll at least think about it.”

“Good,” Brian says. “You deserve to be happy.”

Ghislain is going to cry for real if Brian keeps being so sappy and earnest. He takes a long drink of his beer, trying to ward it off. “I do want to hear about Bali, too. Do you have pictures?”

Brian takes out his phone and swipes through shots of white sand beaches and sunsets and Raj grinning next to elaborate cocktails. Ghislain sips his beer and relaxes, feeling more at ease than he has all month. Maybe Brian’s right, and things can be okay after all.

****  
It’s hard again when he gets back home. Ghislain doesn’t know what to do about anything Brian said. It’s one thing to admit that he wants to be with Akira, but what happens now? All the options feel impossible. He still doesn’t want to message Akira, or call him. Despite Brian’s insistence, Ghislain is still convinced that Akira would rather forget about him. He doesn’t know how to ask for a second chance—or if he should ask at all. Maybe it would be better to leave well enough alone.

_You could go on the tour,_ a little voice in his head suggests. Ghislain hushes it immediately. Calling and getting ignored would be bad enough. He doesn’t want to fly all the way to Japan and get ignored in person.

That leaves him with only one option—doing nothing. Not apologizing, not trying, just staying the same. It’s the easiest thing to do. It doesn’t feel right—doesn’t make Ghislain any happier, or take away the heavy feeling in his stomach—but he isn’t sure he’s capable of anything else. 

April turns to May. Brian and the team are gearing up for the Learn to Skate seminar at the end of the month. Ghislain wonders every day how to make things right with Akira, and every day he abandons a half-dozen ideas, feeling useless and lazy.

One afternoon, Ghislain is eating lunch when his phone starts buzzing, vibrating itself off the table and onto the floor. He picks it up quickly. It’s Yuzu.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Ghislain,” Yuzu says. There’s a faint sound of music behind him—he must be at some kind of rehearsal.

“To what do I owe the honor?” Ghislain says.

“Hmm?”

“Why are you calling?”

“Oh. Well—“ There’s a long pause—evasive or thoughtful, Ghislain isn’t sure.

“Are you hurt?”

“No!” Yuzu says. “I’m lot better.”

“Good, that’s what I like to hear.”

“I’m trying…something new.” Yuzu lowers his voice. “I’m trying quad toe, triple axel. Without hop, as a sequence. So I can adding it to programs.”

“Whoa,” Ghislain says. He and Yuzu have talked about this combo before, but more theoretically than anything concrete. If Yuzu pulls it off— “That’ll be so good.”

“Uh-huh,” Yuzu says. “But—I’m having lot of problems with it right now.”

“You want to send me some videos?”

There’s another silence. “I want you to come with Brian, for second half,” Yuzu says.

Ghislain swallows hard. “I don’t know if that would be a good idea.”

“I’m not hurt,” Yuzu says. “I will go easy, I promise.”

“It’s not that,” Ghislain says.

“I thought you plan to come for second half,” Yuzu says. “But Kikuchi-san, he said he was wrong about that.” Ghislain can practically hear the gears turning in Yuzu’s brain. “Do you—fight with Kikuchi-san, or something?”

Ghislain can’t think of anyone he wants to talk about this with less than Yuzu. “Yeah. Kind of. He—it was my fault.” He sighs. “Look, I promise it won’t affect my work with you. I can be professional, you don’t have to worry about that.”

“I don’t think about that,” Yuzu says indignantly. “I think about, you are sad and he is sad.”

“Is he sad?” Ghislain can’t help but ask, even though he hates himself for it.

“Yes!” Yuzu squeaks. “I don’t want to say, but—he miss you, since Olympics. He don’t say much, but I see.”

Ghislain has to laugh. Yuzu sounds so imperious. “You see, huh?”

“I have idea,” Yuzu says. “You come to Fantasy on Ice for second half, you can help me with quad toe-triple axel, you can be…friends…with Kikuchi-san again. Yes?”

It’s like a door opens, letting in fresh air and light. The chance he never thought he’d get. Maybe he could apologize after all. And if Akira doesn’t want to talk with him, he can help Yuzu with jumps instead.

“Yes?” Yuzu says again.

“Yes,” Ghislain says. “I’ll come.”

When he hangs up, he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. No excuses, now. He’s got to try. He hears the sound of a door opening. It’s Brian, heading through the lounge on the way back to the rink from lunch. Ghislain stands up and walks with him.

“So,” Ghislain says, as casually as he can muster. “I’m going on the second half of the tour.”

Brian throws an arm around Ghislain, squeezing him briefly. “I’m proud of you.”

“You won’t be saying that when he won’t talk to me and I’m complaining about it to you every day,” Ghislain says, feeling warm despite himself.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Brian says.

The closer it gets to the tour dates, the more nervous Ghislain becomes. He can’t stop running through conversations in his head, playing every possible first meeting. The bad possibilities loom the largest. After all that was said on that terrible phone call, how can they go back to where they were before? But it’s too late, at this point. He’s flying to Japan for the tour, like it or not, and when he gets there he’ll have to talk to Akira sometime. 

On the way to the airport, Ghislain opens his message thread with Akira, heart pounding. He types, _yuzu might have told you i was coming on the tour to help him with 4t-3a, but actually i’m mostly coming to apologize_. He sends it before he can second-guess himself. Then he turns his phone off and lets out a slow breath, preparing for the long, long flight.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ghislain finally takes the plunge - and finds he should have taken it years ago.

Ghislain yawns and stretches as they stand up, getting in line to file off the plane. His neck is stiff, beginning to ache. He turns his phone back on as they shuffle down the aisle. He’s got lots of emails, a few messages from the organizers about transportation to the tour hotel, and, right at the bottom, one message from Akira: _ok_.

Ghislain stares at the _ok_ for long enough that Brian bumps into him from behind. 

“Jesus, keep moving,” Brian grumbles. 

Ghislain hastily shoves his phone in his pocket, but he can still see the word, as if it’s emblazoned in the air. _ok_. Just two letters, but they feel like so much more. A tiny ray of light, a tiny spark of hope.

Brian falls asleep in the car on the way to the hotel, but Ghislain is wide awake. He runs through everything he could possibly say, generating ideas wildly and rejecting them just as quickly. He’ll keep it simple, he finally decides. He was wrong, he’s sorry, he wants to try again. He does want to date Akira. Ghislain swallows hard at the thought of saying that out loud.

They barely have time to check in and drop their bags before leaving for the arena. Brian has a meeting with the other show choreographers, and Ghislain doesn’t want to sit around the hotel by himself. It would feel like chickening out.

Most of the skaters have left the arena, but Yuzu is still circling around the rink, running through his cooldown exercises. Akira is standing off to the side, leaning against one of Yuzu’s suitcases. As Ghislain and Brian get closer, Yuzu catches sight of them and comes to a sliding step, spraying snow everywhere. “Hello!” he calls out.

Ghislain doesn’t mean to stare at Akira. But he sees Akira’s head jerk in their direction, then away. His heart thuds, and he swallows down a sudden lump in his throat. Brian and Yuzu are embroiled in conversation almost instantly, abandoning Ghislain to his fate. He squares his shoulders and walks over to Akira.

“Hello,” Ghislain says tentatively.

Akira glances at him and attempts a smile. “Hello.”

There’s a silence between them, thick and suffocating.

“Can we talk when you’re done here?” Ghislain finally says, when he can’t bear it anymore.

“Ok,” Akira says. He looks at Yuzu, who is wiping his face with a towel. “Let me—“ He moves away, dragging Yuzu’s suitcase behind him. After some discussion with Yumi and Yuzu, Akira heads back towards Ghislain, face set and serious.

“Back here,” Akira says, gesturing for Ghislain to follow him. They walk past the skaters’ dressing rooms and lounge. Akira ducks inside an open door, and Ghislain rushes after him. The room is empty except for a couple of long folding tables. Akira shuts the door behind them, gently.

“Your text…” he starts. “You want to—apologize?”

Ghislain takes a deep breath. “I do. I’m really sorry for being so selfish. I was only thinking about what I wanted, and I just—assumed we were on the same page. And that was really shitty of me. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Akira nods. “Thank you.” He sighs. “I never ask either, I just assume too. I wish I don’t do that.”

“Your assumptions at least made sense,” Ghislain says bitterly. “I don’t know why I thought you knew what I was thinking.”

“What were you thinking?” Akira blurts.

“Like I said, I thought this was going to be a one-time thing.” Ghislain doesn’t miss how Akira winces when he says it. “I didn’t think anything…real…could ever work between us. We were just having fun while we could.”

“You really hurt me, when you think that,” Akira says, soft and matter-of-fact. 

“I’m sorry for that, too,” Ghislain says. “I fucked everything up. NHK, the Olympics, everything—I wish I could have handled that differently. I'm so sorry.” With an effort, he keeps his eyes on Akira while he’s saying this. He wants Akira to know that he means it, even if it’s awkward.

There’s a long silence. “You are sorry—we were together?” Akira asks faintly. His eyebrows are pulled together, the lines on his face deepening.

“No!” Ghislain almost yells. “No, no I’m not.”

“But you don’t really want,” Akira says. “You keep saying, one-time thing. You aren’t sorry it get more complicating? I forgive you, for not telling me, but—now it doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” Ghislain says. “It matters a lot, because—because I was wrong, that we were just having fun. When I kissed you—it told you something that was true. But I didn’t wanna admit it to myself.”

“I don’t know what this means,” Akira says, frantically. He clasps his hands together so tightly it looks painful to Ghislain. “Please, tell me…little bit at a time. Too many words, I don’t know what you mean, and I need to know. Please, explain slow.”

“Okay.” Ghislain takes a deep breath. “Okay. So. Basically. When you get right down to it—“

“This is not better,” Akira says.

“I’ve had a crush on you for three years,” Ghislain says, all in a rush. “But I convinced myself it was a bad idea. You in Japan, me in Canada, our careers—I told myself it was doomed. So I wanted to…to get rid of my real feelings. But they were still there, even though I tried to stop having them.”

“You—“ Akira gapes. “Three years?”

“Three years. And that whole time, I was a fucking coward,” Ghislain says. “I was scared of everything that could go wrong. I didn’t trust myself, and I didn’t know what was going to happen, so I decided nothing should. But—that didn’t stop me from liking you. That’s why everything has been so confusing so far, that’s why I kept treating you all these different ways. I’m sorry for that, too.”

“Okay,” Akira says, high and wavering. “I think I understand. Thank you for telling me.” He shifts towards the door.

“Wait,” Ghislain says, reaching out his hand. “I’m not done.”

Akira turns back toward him warily.

“I’m tired of being a coward,” Ghislain says, and it’s like he’s leaping off a cliff, plunging into the unknown. “I’m sick of trying to pretend I don’t have feelings for you. Everything I was worried about—it was so stupid. Even if it doesn’t work out, it would be so much better to try. That’s what I realized, these past few weeks.”

Akira’s eyes are fixed on Ghislain’s face, his mouth slightly open.

“Will you give me a second chance?” Ghislain asks. His voice cracks on the question, but he can’t bring himself to care. “I want to date you. For real this time.”

There’s a long silence. Ghislain breathes heavily, stomach churning. Finally admitting his feelings after all these years is like opening a window, letting fresh air into a stale room. But Akira is still just standing there, one hand over his mouth. Ghislain looks at his feet, swallowing down a sick wave of fear.

“You don’t have to decide right away,” Ghislain hears himself saying faintly. “If you need more time, I can—“

A heavy warmth settles on his arm. Akira is cupping his elbow, looking into his face.

“You really want to try again?” Akira asks.

Ghislain nods, holding Akira’s gaze. “You’re worth it.”

A smile spreads itself slowly across Akira’s face, and it’s like the sun rising. He opens his arms wide. Ghislain hugs him with vigor.

“I want to,” Akira says, and cool relief floods Ghislain’s bones. “But maybe we try—little slower this time? And we talk to each other?”

Ghislain laughs. “Yes, yes. I want to do this right.”

“Me too,” Akira says, so quietly Ghislain almost doesn’t hear him. They burrow deeper into each other’s arms. Ghislain’s eyes prickle, and he shuts them tight, just breathing Akira in.

“Can I take you to dinner?” Ghislain asks, when they pull apart.

Akira nods. “But, maybe I pick. Unless your Japanese is very good now.”

“Hey,” Ghislain says. “I can get better at Japanese.”

“In ten minute?” Akira teases, but Ghislain doesn’t miss the way his smile broadens and his eyes soften.

“Asshole,” Ghislain says, no heat in it. “C’mon then, I’m starving.”

They wander out into the evening-bright street, arms swinging close enough for their fingers to brush. Akira scans the restaurants they pass, finally turning into one with a bright green awning and a picture of a happy man holding a skewer of meat.

The waitress seats them in a far corner, near a window. Akira waves away the menu and gives her some instructions that make her laugh. She comes back with platters piled high with meat and rice. After one bite, Ghislain understands why the man on the sign is grinning so much.

“You always pick the best restaurants,” Ghislain says, around a mouthful of meat.

Akira blushes. “We are here every Fantasy on Ice, so.”

“Still,” Ghislain says. “I’ve never had a bad meal with you.”

There’s a warm silence, and Ghislain feels like he might be blushing too. It’s like all his words are charged with meaning today, revealing how deep his feelings are. But for once, he doesn’t care. 

“So, catch me up,” Ghislain says, at the same time Akira says, “How’s work?” They both laugh.

“You first,” Akira says.

“No, you,” Ghislain says. “I never heard how that conference went. Did they like your presentation?”

“Well, I think so,” Akira says. He launches into a description of how the audience reacted, and everyone who wanted to talk to him afterwards, and the best presentations he heard. His eyes are bright and lively, his hands dancing as he talks. Ghislain can’t stop looking at him, a moth to Akira’s flame. It’s such a relief that he doesn’t have to give this up after all. Why was he so sure he could?

“How about you?” Akira asks, and Ghislain comes back to himself with a jolt.

“Eh, it was pretty boring,” Ghislain says. “We had a camp for the junior kids a couple weeks ago, but everything else has been pretty slow. Mostly I’ve been moping around and feeling like an idiot.” He chuckles bitterly.

Akira reaches under the table and caresses his knee, briefly. “Me too.”

“I figured out pretty fast that I was awful to you,” Ghislain says. “But then I just—had to sit with it. Because I felt like I could never talk to you again.”

“I was very mad,” Akira says. “So maybe good thing you don’t talk to me at first. Then—“ he sighs heavily. “Then I am just sad. Because I like you so much, and that hasn’t happen to me in really long time.”

“I’m sorry,” Ghislain says. “I hope you know how sorry I am. I should have listened to Brian a long time ago. Then we wouldn’t have gotten into this mess.”

“I do forgive you,” Akira says. “I hope you be better for real, though. Or else—“

“Please, smack me in the face if I’m ever this ridiculous again,” Ghislain says. “I want this to be real, I want us to be honest with each other. You’re allowed to be pissed at me.”

Akira smiles. “What you mean when you say you should have listen to Brian?” he asks.

“For years Brian’s been telling me I should just date you,” Ghislain says. “Ever since he figured out how I felt about you. And I finally listened to him.”

“Brian is a good friend, I think,” Akira says.

“He is. He’s always had my back,” Ghislain says. “He might be—really enthusiastic to you, once he knows we’re dating, but he means well.”

“It’s okay,” Akira says. “I like to be friends with Brian.”

“He told me that it was worth it to try with you, even if it was hard,” Ghislain says, looking over at Akira. “And he was right.”

Akira’s smile is so broad it eclipses his eyes. He can’t meet Ghislain’s gaze for long, looking down at the food on his plate. The sense of relief that’s been growing in Ghislain all evening swells until it’s bursting out of every cell in his body.

They linger over their dinner, not leaving the restaurant until it’s pitch-black outside. Akira calls a cab back to the hotel. They cram into the tiny backseat, so tightly packed in that Ghislain’s side is pressed against the entire length of Akira’s. He’s never been so grateful for a small car in all his life.

The lobby of the hotel is deserted except for the desk attendant, who gives them a polite nod as they enter. They walk to the elevators together and Ghislain presses the button. 

“Thank you for dinner,” Akira says. “Tomorrow too?”

“Tomorrow too,” Ghislain says. “Any time. Every time.”

Akira tugs Ghislain into a long, lingering hug. They stand there in each other’s arms as the elevator dings open and shuts again. Ghislain feels the press of lips on the side of his head. He bends down to kiss Akira’s shoulder, gentle and reverent. The elevator dings again, impatiently.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Ghislain says, unwrapping his arms from Akira’s waist.

Akira looks like he’s going to laugh at him. “We can go in the same elevator.”

They hold hands all the way up to Ghislain’s floor.

“_Now_ I will see you in the morning,” Akira says. He leans in to peck Ghislain on the lips. “Have good sleep.”

“You too,” Ghislain says, floating off the elevator and wandering down the hallway.

Ghislain takes his time getting ready for bed, humming to himself and puttering around his room. That lightness at the center of his chest, relief and freedom and joy, is only growing stronger. He gazes at his reflection in the mirror as he brushes his teeth. It’s silly, but he feels like he should look different now, like the warm glow in his heart should be shining out of his face. 

Ghislain wriggles under the blinding-white duvet, settling his head back against a heap of pillows. With a jaw-cracking yawn, he reaches for his phone on the bedside table and sends a message to Brian: _he forgave me. you were right. thanks for everything_

Brian’s probably sending back a million questions, but Ghislain is drifting off into sweet, peaceful sleep.

****  
The next morning, it feels like the sun has come up a hundred times stronger, blazing delightedly into Ghislain’s room. He hums to himself in the shower, inventing a tune as he goes. Akira is waiting in the lobby downstairs. His smile for Ghislain is a second sunrise. They sit in the very back of the transport van, and it’s not long until their hands find their way to each other, intertwining and clinging.

They gravitate towards each other like that the whole day: Ghislain on one side of Akira as they watch Yuzu warm up, their shoulders mere millimeters from touching; Akira snagging Ghislain a boxed lunch and bringing it to a pair of chairs in a quiet corner; the two of them sitting in the audience to watch Yuzu jump, feet on the seats in front of them. Even when they have to be at a distance from each other, Ghislain can feel Akira’s presence like warmth on his skin.

There’s a dinner for all the choreographers and trainers that night. Ghislain sits with Brian and Akira, the three of them talking over and to each other all night. Sandwiched between his two favorite men in the world, Ghislain gets tipsy on beer and fondness. Akira starts talking to Brian about triple axels, and Ghislain leans his head on his hands and listens dreamily. Akira is so smart, and Brian is so talented. And Ghislain is so lucky to have both of them.

Akira and Ghislain don’t sleep together that night, but they do end up making out in the hotel stairwell. It smells like recently dried paint, and the fluorescent lights are too bright, but none of that matters. It feels so right, kissing long and deep, their mouths bridging the gap between them.

“Is this too fast?” Ghislain asks, when they come up for air.

Akira shakes his head. “Makes me feel like—you meant it. That you want to try with me.”

“I did mean it,” Ghislain says firmly, running his hands down Akira’s arms.

The next day is more of the same, and the next. They draw closer and closer together, pulled by a strong invisible force. Every moment they can be, they’re together. It feels like the end of the Olympics, except it’s completely different. Ghislain isn’t trying to grab what he can before he has to run away. He’s basking in his newfound riches, gorging himself on happiness. These things belong to him, given freely by Akira, and that makes it better.

Yuzu seems to be treating the shows with the same wild abandon, seizing joy with both hands. He still rehearses with that same steely fire and unparalleled concentration, but he’s goofy and wild, too, bringing back memories of the gala practice after the Olympics. It’s a perfect match with Ghislain’s own giddiness, making him wish he were a skater on the tour so he could joke and mess around like the rest of the cast do with Yuzu.

During the practice sessions, Ghislain spends most of his time helping Yuzu with the quad toe-triple axel. It’s finicky, requiring a lot of trial and error from both of them, since axel sequences aren’t exactly everday occurrences. Yuzu can land it consistently with a hop in between the two jumps, but the judges would downgrade that in a competition. Attempted as a sequence, the axel wobbles and tilts, or the toe gets wonky. When it works, it’s beautiful, a feat of physical mechanics—but more often than not, it doesn’t work at all.

On Ghislain’s third day with the tour, Yuzu attempts four sequences in a row and falls on three of them. He gets up from the last one dripping sweat, muttering “kuso” under his breath. 

“Maybe we’ll take a little break, okay?” Ghislain says. “You just stopped being hurt, I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

Yuzu makes a big show of sighing, but skates over with Ghislain to the side of the rink readily enough. Once he’s gulped down some of his energy drink, he perks up significantly, skating a ring around Ghislain while he drinks more. It starts to make Ghislain a little dizzy. 

“Are you trying to make your old coach fall over so you don’t have to work anymore?” he teases. “Little brat.” He speaks without thinking much, but once the words are said he’s uneasy, worried it’s too far. As loose as Yuzu is, it’s unusual for Ghislain to tease like this. It’s how he jokes with his nieces and nephews, not his students.

Yuzu cracks up, folding himself in half so he can laugh properly and slapping one of his legs. Something lightens in Ghislain, knowing he can make Yuzu this amused. 

“You have to be nice to me,” he says, while Yuzu is still doubled over with laughter. “I’m the one helping you do these jumps, after all.”

“I _am_ nice,” Yuzu says, straightening up and sticking his tongue out at Ghislain. “I am very nice.” He begins circling Ghislain again, faster this time.

“Oh, really,” Ghislain says, reaching out for Yuzu to stop his whirling. “So nice you’re making an old man dizzy, huh.”

Yuzu runs into one of Ghislain’s arms and flops over it dramatically, letting his body go limp. 

“Oof, you’re heavy,” Ghislain says, steadying Yuzu with his other hand. “All those muscles for those beautiful jumps. You’re like a cannonball.”

Yuzu gets unexpectedly serious, smile dimming. 

“Sorry, did I go too far?” Ghislain asks quickly. He’s been working on instinct here, propelled by some combination of the light on Yuzu’s joyful face and the relief of having Akira back and his newly ignited self-confidence. But maybe Yuzu only likes a little teasing, not a lot. “I’m just being silly, you’re okay.”

“No, I like you are silly,” Yuzu says. “Silly makes me feel—comfort? Comfortable.” He pauses. “You think my jumps are beautiful?”

“Oh my god.” Has Ghislain not said it enough? It should be obvious to Yuzu, that Ghislain loves his jumps, but apparently he still needs it spelled out for him. “You have some of the most beautiful jumps I’ve ever seen.”

Yuzu turns faintly pink, the tip of his nose blushing. “Okay.”

“That’s why we’re working so hard, right?” Ghislain can’t resist adding. “So toe-axel can be beautiful too.”

Yuzu nods, setting his hair flying. 

“You wanna try again?” Ghislain asks.

Yuzu sets down his energy drink and pretends to shuffle towards the middle of the rink.

“Keep your flow through both the jumps,” Ghislain says. “Imagine it’s like one long jump with a little pause in between.”

Yuzu tries it again. He steps out of the jump, wobbling heavily as he tries hard to keep from falling over, but it is better.

“That wasn’t bad,” Ghislain says. “You’ll get there.” He glances over to the stands, instinctively. Akira is laying out a fresh towel and jacket with careful precision. It makes Ghislain smile involuntarily.

“It’s good?” Yuzu asks, startling Ghislain.

“Yeah, it looks like you’ll be all set for when practice is over.”

Yuzu shakes his head in frustration. “No, I mean...you are good? You and Kikuchi.”

“Yes. Yes.” Ghislain tries hard not to blush. “Never been better. Thanks for your help.”

“I don’t do anything,” Yuzu says, pitching his voice up.

“Oh, sure you don’t,” Ghislain says. “You never have any schemes. You’re just a good little boy.”

“I’m the _best_ boy,” Yuzu says, and skates away laughing. Ghislain watches him go, feeling joy bubble up in his heart like a spring.

The next day, the cast and crew travel up the coast to Niigata. Ghislain and Akira sit next to each other on the bus. Ghislain wants to talk to Akira, about jumps or Japanese geography or how happy he is to be with him. But Akira falls asleep about twenty minutes into the ride, snoring melodically. Ghislain watches his chest rise and fall, the trees and water rushing by outside the window, and it’s not long before he’s lulled to sleep too. They wake up slumped against each other, a patch of Ghislain’s drool on Akira’s shoulder. Ghislain tries to apologize, but Akira waves it off sheepishly. “I like you sleep on me,” he says, eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

They’re staying in a hot springs resort, one of the many that Niigata is known for. When Ghislain checks into his room, there’s a Japanese bathrobe hanging on the back of the door and a selection of teas arranged next to a beautiful china cup. It’s a tradition, apparently, for the last stop on the tour to be more of a treat, and this hotel has certainly delivered.

After a day of travel, Ghislain’s back and legs are stiff. Soaking in hot water sounds like the perfect plan. He reads the poorly translated instructions about hot spring usage on the little laminated card in his check-in materials. He takes off his sweatpants and t-shirt and pulls on the bathrobe—_yukata_ the card had said. It feels cool and airy, like a summer breeze. Then he picks up his phone to text Akira.

_hot springs in 10?_

_already outside. no one is out here ;-)_

Ghislain hurries out as fast as he can go in the yukata, speeding through the shower that an attendant insists he take. True to his word, Akira is already outside, up to his waist in the water and leaning back against the side of the pool. Ghislain slides in next to him. The water is almost too hot when it hits his skin, but after a moment it becomes perfectly soothing. His limbs relax, floating underneath him.

“This is amazing,” he tells Akira.

Akira drifts closer, brushing his hand against Ghislain’s arm. “The best way to relax.”

They linger in the hot springs as long as they can. Back here, they’re secluded from the hotel, shielded by a screen and some foliage no doubt set up to protect privacy. They hold hands under the water. As time passes and they’re still the only ones around, Ghislain gets a little bolder. He cups Akira’s face in his water-wrinkled hands and kisses him. Akira coos in mild surprise. They kiss as long as they dare, languid and warm like their afternoon in the springs.

When Ghislain starts to feel like his skin is peeling off, he slowly pulls himself out of the water. He’s stopped thinking about his nakedness, too relaxed to feel self-conscious. But Ghislain catches Akira staring until he realizes what he’s doing and jerks his head away, face flaming up. It sends a rush of warmth all through Ghislain’s body.

“Tonight,” Ghislain says, voice cracking. “Do you want to—I know you said we should take it slow, but—“

Akira turns around and looks right at Ghislain. He holds Ghislain’s gaze, even though his eyes are hesitant. “How about now?”

Ghislain nods, swallowing hard. They hurry back to Ghislain’s room and slam the door behind them. And then—It’s a familiar dance, one Ghislain thought he might never do again. With Akira, or with anyone. But now he’s back in the arms he missed, with none of the worries that hampered him before. He wants to linger over every moment, savor every sensation. Akira is in no hurry, either. They’re very late for dinner.

That night, Ghislain lies next to Akira in his bed, curled close. He watches Akira’s face smooth out and soften as he drifts off to sleep. _I’m so lucky,_ he thinks, stretching out to kiss Akira’s shoulder. Akira mumbles, settling himself even closer to Ghislain. A wave of contentment washes over Ghislain, taking his breath away and leaving him ready to settle into sleep.

He wakes up in the middle of the night, like he often does, spluttering awake from a dream where he has to skate at Worlds in Yuzu’s place. In his sleep-muddled state, he feels like he’s back in his condo in Toronto. Akira’s still right there, though, so after a while Ghislain’s breathing eases again.

The tour passes too quickly for Ghislain. For Akira, too. Ghislain knows, because he asks Akira if it feels like the tour is going really fast, and Akira says, “Too fast.” It’s amazing, to talk to Akira about _themselves_ and not just make conversation. Ghislain is kicking himself, thinking about all the time they had at the Olympics. They could have been spending it like this. Not just kissing and working together and seeing the sights, but getting to know each other, too. Building something, as opposed to letting it happen. He had no idea how much better it would be to do this on purpose. 

The first time Akira looks at Ghislain and murmurs, “You’re so handsome,” it takes every bit of Ghislain’s effort to respond, “You too.” The second time, it’s a little easier. As the week winds down, Ghislain finds himself saying what’s on his mind more and more, embarrassment be damned. Akira deserves to know what he’s thinking.

The second-to-last night before the tour ends, they go to dinner at a bustling sushi place, cramming themselves into tall, high-backed chairs. They don’t talk much at first, busy enjoying the fresh fish and tiny, cold glasses of sake. The end of the tour looms, a presence in both of their minds. Ghislain is powerfully happy and overwhelmingly sad at the same time. He’s so grateful he came, so glad he asked for a second chance. But how is he supposed to go back to his ordinary life after this?

“I wish I didn’t have to leave so soon,” he blurts out, surprising himself.

Akira reaches out across the table like he wants to touch Ghislain. The restaurant’s a little too crowded for that, though, so he draws his hand back. “Do you have to?”

“I mean, the tour’s over,” Ghislain says grumpily. “Nothing left for me to do here.”

“No, I mean—do you have something next?”

Ghislain thinks. “Not really. Just normal stuff. A lot of people are going on vacation. I don’t think Yuzu’s back for another couple weeks.”

“So you could ask Brian,” Akira says. “If he lets you.”

“Wait, what are you planning?”

Akira takes a long sip of sake. He’s nervous, Ghislain realizes.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll be on board,” Ghislain says. “Just…tell me.”

Akira grins suddenly. “One week in Sendai. You and me.” 

“Yes,” Ghislain says immediately, heart surging with joy. The noise of the restaurant around him is like a jubilant orchestra. “Yes, yes, yes. Definitely.”

Akira laughs at him. “I have to warn you, Sendai might be little boring to you. It’s not so big as Toronto.”

“Don’t you dare apologize for Sendai,” Ghislain says. “It’s the hometown of two of my favorite people, how could it be boring?”

Akira flushes.

“Anyway,” Ghislain says, reckless and tipsy on sake and anticipation, “I don’t really care where we go, I just want to spend more time with you.”

Akira’s face turns an even deeper shade of red. “I like when you say this things,” he says shyly. “I like bold Buri.”

“It’s a good thing you like it, because for me it’s embarrassing as shit,” Ghislain says, and Akira cackles. “Having feelings is for kids.”

“No,” Akira says, drawing out the word thoughtfully. “I think, I am so happy not to be done with feelings. I think I am too old, too, but—I feel—I don’t even know how. Just, really alive. And I think it’s good.”

Ghislain swallows hard. His heart fizzes and sparks in his chest. “Okay, how’s this for bold,” he says, lowering his voice. “We need to leave this restaurant as soon as possible so I can kiss you as many times as I want.”

Akira calls for the check with a swiftness that astonishes even Ghislain.

Back at the hotel, his arms around Akira’s neck, Ghislain thinks about what he said. Feeling alive, feeling refreshed, like locked doors have been opened and dead flowers are blooming again. How could he stifle his heart again, even if the emptiness feels safer and more familiar? He leans in for a millionth kiss and resolves not to be afraid.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One week in Sendai together.

It’s four hours from Niigata to Sendai. Staring out the window of the train, watching trees whir past, Ghislain feels like he’s in a totally new world. He hardly ever does anything this reckless.

It’s not like he just disappeared without asking, of course. Brian had been a little miffed, grumbling about rearranging schedules, but Ghislain saw the twinkle in his eye that meant he was secretly proud. The airline had charged a larger fee for changing the tickets than Ghislain thought was fair, but he didn’t have the time to fight them. Still, he’s not the kind of person who changes flights on a whim and makes spontaneous trips. It gives him a frisson of excitement. The train is swift and sleek, and Akira is in the seat beside him, and Ghislain is speeding faster and faster away from his ordinary concerns.

They disembark at Sendai Station in the late afternoon. In the main station hall is an enormous ad for bath salts featuring Yuzu relaxing in a tub. Ghislain snaps a picture of it discreetly. He wonders, idly, if anyone will recognize him here. The crowd in the station seems mostly intent on catching their trains. No one is paying attention to him or Akira as they pull their suitcases through the station and out to the taxi stand.

Akira’s home is on a calm street, lush with greenery. The taxi pulls up in front of a large house, painted in muted blues and browns. Akira leads Ghislain down a brick path to a door around the back.

“Lower level is me,” Akira says, ushering Ghislain inside and flicking on the light.

The entryway is the same blue as the outside. Akira slips his shoes off and places them on a mat, and Ghislain follows his lead.

“I think I have extra slippers for you,” Akira says. “Come in, I’ll look in bedroom.” He disappears into another room as Ghislain steps further in.

Akira’s place is neat and homey, if a bit spare. A low dividing wall separates the little kitchen from the living room. Ghislain spies a fat, polished kettle perched on the stove; a dish rack with a single bowl and cup, now bone-dry; cards and letters held up by bright magnets on the fridge. The living room features a plush grey couch facing a small TV, a table heaped high with journals and magazines, and a pair of straight-backed chairs. Akira’s walls are more decorated than Ghislain’s. Ghislain walks around to look at the art: sunflowers in a blue vase, an etching of a crane, a black and white photograph of a young couple that must be Akira’s parents. He turns over a journal on the table and then realizes it’s in Japanese.

“No snooping,” Akira says playfully as he walks back into the room, holding a pair of grey felt slippers. He sets them on the ground next to Ghislain, jabbing Ghislain in the side as he straightens up. “Top secret.”

Ghislain grabs Akira’s hand and places it around his waist, leaning in. “Oh, really.”

Akira kisses the side of Ghislain’s head. “Maybe I translate some of my notes for you.”

“You wanna give me a tour of the rest of this place first?” Ghislain says. “Or is that secret, too?”

“It’s not much,” Akira says. He opens doors to show Ghislain: the compact bathroom, the small patch of garden in the side yard, the bedroom with its huge low bed, pillows piled in the middle.

“I need to fix that before we sleep,” Akira says, looking embarrassed. “I don’t think about—“

“It’s okay,” Ghislain says. His heart beats strangely fast as he stares at the bed. Sharing a hotel room is nothing compared to the thought of sleeping where Akira sleeps every night. “You didn’t know I was coming.”

“Are you glad you come?” Akira asks. His eyes are hesitant, like he’s afraid Ghislain was expecting something better.

Ghislain holds Akira’s gaze until it melts. “I’m very glad.”

“Good,” Akira says gently.

“So, what are we doing for dinner?” Ghislain asks after a while. He’s content to loiter in the doorway with Akira, but his stomach is growling.

Akira looks distressed again. “Oh no, I don’t have anything here. I forget, I eat it all before the tour.”

“Well, it sounds like we need to go on a date to the grocery store,” Ghislain says, and Akira brightens up.

They clamber into Akira’s tiny silver car and wind their way through the neighborhood streets until the small houses and trees give way to taller buildings and bustling sidewalks. Akira leads Ghislain on a well-traveled route through the grocery store, breezing by shelves and rummaging in bins. He fills up their basket with cartons and cans and vegetables, and after some consultation with a man behind a counter, a hunk of fish wrapped in bright white paper.

“This looks exciting,” Ghislain says.

“You’ll like, I promise,” Akira tells him.

Back at the apartment, Akira springs into a frenzy of action Ghislain has never seen outside of competitions. Ghislain is deputized to chop vegetables while Akira fiddles with the rice cooker and rubs spices into the fish.

“Is this okay?” Ghislain asks, showing Akira a cutting board of chopped carrots.

“You cut so big,” Akira says. “Can you make little more small?”

“I thought this was small,” Ghislain says, taken aback. “You said chopped small. I chopped, it’s not large—“

“Cut this pieces in half, I think,” Akira says sharply.

Ghislain chops in irritated silence. Eventually, Akira says, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ghislain says automatically.

“I don’t—I never cook with anyone else,” Akira says. “I didn’t even think about, you would do a different way. I forget sometimes. That you don’t just—know.”

Ghislain puts his knife down. “It’s okay. I forget too. We’ve only just started doing this.”

“I am by myself for so long,” Akira says. “Just think about me, deal with me. I’m not used to—someone else. It’s good, I’m really happy, but I’m still figuring out. So, I’m sorry.”

Ghislain squeezes Akira’s shoulder. “It’s okay. We’ll get there, eh?”

Akira nods. They go back to cooking, silently.

“Is this better?” Ghislain asks, when all the carrots are cut in half.

“You can do it any way you want,” Akira says. He takes a second look. “Yes.”

“You’ll regret you said that when I cut these potatoes into little stars,” Ghislain says.

The food, when it’s finally finished, is delicious. The fish practically melts in Ghislain’s mouth, and he reluctantly concedes that the smaller vegetables mingle well with the rest of the dish.

“This is incredible,” Ghislain says, around a mouthful. “How come you were single all those years when you can cook like this?”

The moment it’s out of his mouth, he regrets it; he can see Akira deflate. Ghislain’s own single years have their disappointments and frustrations, and it’s not fair to tease Akira about it like that.

“Geez, I’m sorry, what a fucking horrible joke to make,” Ghislain says, reaching across the table for Akira’s arm. “I just—I feel lucky, that you weren’t taken when I met you. Because you’re really amazing.”

Akira does smile at that, soft and shy. “I could say same about you.” He sighs. “I also think sometimes, how can Buri be single. First time I meet you, I think maybe you and Brian—“

Ghislain starts laughing so hard he almost chokes. “Oh, my god. Brian and I would kill each other in ten minutes if we ever tried to date. Never in a million years.”

“Really?” Akira is giggling too.

“I thought about it a couple times, when we were younger,” Ghislain admits. “He was hot to watch back then, all those tight costumes, and he had so much confidence. But we’re too alike, we get on each other’s nerves too easily.”

“I have a friend little bit like this,” Akira says. “Makoto. He is like—too quiet. We go long time without talk, then we get mad because we don’t talk. I think about if I like him sometimes, but, we never work.”

“Is he gay too?” Ghislain asks.

Akira nods.

“Good, I was worried maybe you didn’t have any gay friends here,” Ghislain says.

Akira rolls his eyes. “People are gay in Sendai, Buri, you know two of them.”

“Sorry, I’m an idiot,” Ghislain says. “I just thought—“ _I thought surely someone here would have snapped you up in a heartbeat,_ he thinks but doesn’t say. 

“Problem with Sendai is—well, lot of problem,” Akira says. “But mostly it’s, everyone I know here, I know from very young. In movies, that’s romantic. But for me, I don’t think so.”

“I know what you mean,” Ghislain says. “That’s why I never dated another skater when I was competing. Too many people I’d known since I was a kid. But it kind of limited my options, since I didn’t really hang out with anybody else.”

“My friend Takashi, when we are seven, he steal my favorite pencil,” Akira says. “How am I supposed to kiss someone when I only think of that? It’s too small here.”

Ghislain giggles.

“Life is complicated,” Akira says. “Lot of reasons why it’s easier if I don’t date someone, but, if I really want to, those reasons mattering less. But I just—never want to. I have work, I have conferences, I have Yuzu… You know what I mean. It’s just easier to always do same thing. And then, you don’t even notice. It’s just your life.”

“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” Ghislain says. He thinks about his own life, back in Canada. The club, his condo, his friends. He has even less going on than Akira. But until he met Akira, he hadn’t noticed. Wasn’t middle aged life supposed to be a little dull?

“Life is still complicated,” Akira says. “But, don’t worry. Only thing important is that I like you.”

Ghislain nods. His biggest fear churns in his stomach, bubbling to the surface before he can stop it. “Is this going to make things harder for Yuzu?”

Akira smiles knowingly. “You know, Yuzu know about us for long time. Longer than we do, I think.”

Worlds in 2016 comes rushing back to Ghislain. “So that bouquet of flowers was supposed to be romantic.”

“He tell me later that he thinks it help us figure it out.” Akira laughs. “I don’t know if it work.”

“He’s been weirdly fine with it,” Ghislain says. “I mean—his coach and his trainer dating, wouldn’t that be a scandal?”

“You know I have work with Yuzu for many years,” Akira says. “Since he was seven years old.”

Ghislain nods. “Yeah. And?”

“Yuzu tell me lot of things while I’m helping him,” Akira says. “Lot of worries, lot of secrets. I am the first person who knows he like boys. He was scared to tell Yumi, that she would get mad at him. I help him say it to her. We talk a lot about these things. About all things, because he knows I cannot tell anyone.”

“I’m glad he has that,” Ghislain says. “I’m glad he has you.”

“He probably know about me before I tell him,” Akira says. “But when he is thirteen, he is feeling really lonely. Like nobody understand. So I tell him, ‘I understand one thing. I’m gay too.’ And I will never forget. He sit up, and he give me the biggest hug, and he say thank you, over and over again. And then we talk for a long time. It made me feel—so happy to be gay. Like it was the best part of me.”

Ghislain blinks furiously, clearing his throat.

“We talk about a lot, after that,” Akira says. “He say to me, ‘I hope you fall in love, I hope you have a boyfriend.’ I say to him that winning two Olympics is easier.”

Ghislain chuckles.

“When he figure out about us—he was so happy. I try to tell him ‘I don’t know if it’s happening,’ but he doesn’t listen. He just tell me he’s happy for me. And he tell me, too, not to worry about him. Just to live my life. So, that’s long way of saying—it’s okay. Yuzu tells me not to worry, I’m not going to worry.”

A weight falls off Ghislain that he didn’t even know he was carrying. “That’s good enough for me.”

“You know, it’s weird,” Akira says. “You asking that question—it makes me feel most that you want this. That you’re serious.”

“I am serious,” Ghislain says. “I’m gonna tell you in all the ways I can.”

They mostly eat in silence after that. There’s a heaviness in the air, like humidity after rain. Ghislain takes it in. He doesn’t feel the need to speak, just sits there, cataloging every glimpse of Akira’s heart he’s seen tonight. He wants to see more and more, to show his own heart in return.

It’s later than Ghislain expected by the time they finish eating. They do the dishes, Ghislain washing and Akira drying. They watch television for a while, the news and the weather and the end of a baseball game. As soon as Ghislain starts yawning, Akira turns the TV off.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says. “Just sleep, if that’s okay.”

“Fine by me,” Ghislain says. “I feel like I could fall asleep standing up.”

Akira’s bed is just as comfortable as it looks. It smells strongly of him, clean laundry and cedar and warm skin, and Ghislain is overwhelmed. He burrows close, resting his head on Akira’s chest. Akira kisses the top of his head, right where the hair is thinning.

“Sleep well, my Buri,” Akira says softly. Ghislain plummets into deep slumber, the last thing on his mind that _my_.

When he wakes up the next morning, Akira is snoring next to him, still sound asleep. The previous night floods back to him—the dinner, the conversation, getting so close. _My Buri._ It’s absurd, how those two simple words make him feel so warm and tender and cherished. So protected, although it seems ridiculous, to need protection at his age. He looks over at Akira, drooling into the pillow, hair pushed to one side. _My Akira,_ he thinks, and then a string of old words for this fond feeling, the French endearments he heard his parents use with each other. _Mon beau, mon ange, mon petit chou._ “Mon chéri Akira,” he says out loud.

Akira stirs next to him, snorting. “Hmm?”

“Good morning,” Ghislain says.

Akira rolls over sleepily, right into Ghislain’s arms. “Ohayo.”

Ghislain kisses Akira awake, softly at first and then more intensely.

“I’m not too tired now,” Akira says, with a wicked grin.

They don’t leave the bed for a long time.

Eventually, their hunger gets the best of them. Akira groans, pulling himself up and ambling, shirtless, into the kitchen. Ghislain follows, yawning and stretching. 

“So, I’m thinking,” Akira says, as he puts the kettle on. “Maybe you want to see some parts of Sendai today?”

Ghislain props his elbows on the counter and stares shamelessly at Akira bending and moving. “I’d love that.”

They drive to the city center in Akira’s little car and then walk all over, wandering through neighborhoods and parks. Sendai is beautiful, full of trees and interesting buildings, but Ghislain is just as focused on Akira. He finds words spilling out of him, a torrent of self-revelation. The way it felt to watch figure skating as a kid, that churn in the pit of his stomach because the men were so handsome and strong and he didn’t know if he wanted to be them or kiss them or both. The last guy he quasi-dated, back when he was twenty-seven, who eventually moved to Vancouver and stopped calling. A stupid story about a time he and Brian accidentally got locked inside the club. Ghislain tells Akira about them all. He wants to tell Akira everything, to sit Akira down and show him a movie about his entire life. And Akira is talking too, almost as much as he’s listening, telling the stories of the buildings they pass and the parks where they sit to rest. Ghislain wants to watch the movie of Akira’s life, too. They keep smiling at each other helplessly, full of an exuberant delight.

By late afternoon, they’re worn out. They eat an early dinner out, the only people in the restaurant, and drive back to Akira’s apartment by the scenic route. Akira teaches Ghislain how to play Go, and then proceeds to trounce him.

“Unfair,” Ghislain pretends to pout. “I’m a beginner.”

“I don’t go easy,” Akira says. “Get used to it.”

Later on, when Ghislain is brushing his teeth, Akira sneaks into the bathroom and hugs him from behind, resting his chin on Ghislain’s shoulder. Ghislain spits and then turns around, kissing Akira until they both taste like mint.

“Mon beau,” Ghislain murmurs, as they move into the bedroom.

Akira pauses, halfway through taking off his pants. “What’s that mean?”

Ghislain blushes. “‘My handsome one,’ I guess.”

“It sounds very romantic,” Akira says. “Say more French? I like it.”

Ghislain chuckles at Akira’s eagerness. “Whatever you say, mon cher.”

On Wednesday, they’re invited to dinner at the Hanyus’. “They want to see both of us,” Akira says.

“Do I need to…” Ghislain trails off. “Does Yumi know?” he asks instead.

Akira laughs. “Why do you think they want to see both of us together?”

“I’ll try not to be too embarrassing,” Ghislain says.

Akira looks at him with fond chagrin. “They know you. You are already part of family. Now you’re just—even more part of family.”

“If you say so,” Ghislain says, feeling his heart warm.

Walking up to the Hanyus’ door feels surreal to Ghislain. After all the time he’s spent working with Yuzu, he never imagined he’d get to see this part of Yuzu’s life. _It’s too close,_ he thinks briefly. Then he remembers the time he spent with Akira yesterday, how it felt to tell him so much, and he thinks, _when you really care about someone, there’s no such thing._

The Hanyus’ house is clean and cozy, if a little smaller than Ghislain expected. Yumi leads them down the hall, past an enormous portrait of Yuzu’s face in profile, and into a small dining room where the rest of the family is already gathered. Ghislain finds himself swept up in the eager chatter of four people trying to welcome him. 

The food is delicious, and Ghislain says so repeatedly, to the delight of Yumi. Yuzu tries to discuss the quad toe- triple axel with Ghislain and gets shouted down by the rest of the family. “That’s business,” Saya says. “This is fun.” And it is fun—an exuberant mix of Japanese and English, jumbled-up stories as six people try to talk at once. Akira has his arm resting on the back of Ghislain’s chair, his hand grazing Ghislain’s shoulder. Ghislain leans into him without a care in the world. As they drive home that night, laden with leftovers, Ghislain feels like he could float away. _That’s my family._

The rest of Ghislain’s days in Sendai follow the same delightful pattern. Slow, lazy mornings, in bed kissing and touching until they can’t put off breakfast any longer. Walking in Akira’s neighborhood, or seeing the sights of Sendai—the ones on a map and the ones that are only important to the two of them. Akira takes Ghislain to his clinic one day, to the grounds of his university another. They’re frequent visitors to the markets and grocery stores. They cook together, melding their tastes and particularities together to produce dinners they both enjoy. 

As their time together winds down, Ghislain finds himself feeling more and more melancholy. Leaving will be so hard. He postponed it as long as he could, but he’ll have to go back to his ordinary life soon, and part of him dreads it. The rest of the summer looms ahead of him, and then the early season, at least two months before Yuzu has another competition. He’s not sure he’ll make it that long.

“Are you coming to Autumn Classic this year?” Ghislain asks casually during dinner. They have two full days left. He needs to reset his countdown clock, to know the next day he’s waiting for.

Akira is silent for a long time, so long Ghislain starts to get nervous. 

“What, did I say that too softly?” Ghislain asks. He’s trying to be jokey, but his heart is pounding.

“Sorry,” Akira says. “I have to—there’s something I think about, that I don’t tell you yet.” He trails off again.

“Please tell me, it’s okay,” Ghislain says, trying to swallow down his own nerves.

“So, not many people know this yet,” Akira starts, looking down at his hands. “But, from long time ago, I’m planning that after Pyeongchang, I do less for Yuzu. I stay in Japan more, don’t travel so much, focus on clinic. Because I was just feeling so tired, traveling all the time. I’m not so young anymore, I start thinking, maybe it’s time to cut back. Time to—time to retire.”

Ghislain can’t speak, taken completely by surprise.

“But when we get back together, I think, how can I stop my chance to see my Buri?” Akira continues. He takes Ghislain’s hand and squeezes it. “So I think, maybe I wait another year. But after we spend all that time on tour, I am worn out. Helping Yuzu is a lot of work, you know this. It will get worse, during season, and I don’t think it’s bad time to step back, but—but then I don’t see you so much, and that would be so bad, too. So I don’t know what to do.”

Ghislain feels like he’s at the bottom of a deep, black pit. To go even longer without seeing Akira, to not have Akira right there during competitions this season—it seems impossibly hard to him, something that will hurt every day. _This is why you thought it was a bad idea to date him,_ a treacherous little voice in his head whispers. 

But Akira is still looking at Ghislain, and Ghislain can see the exhaustion in his eyes, the lines stress has carved into his forehead. Akira’s worked so hard, he deserves to have things easy for once. 

“If you want to retire you should retire,” Ghislain says, and the words feel right as he says them, even if they’re painful. “You’ve done a very hard thing for a long time. You should take it easy.”

Akira grips Ghislain’s hand tightly, caressing the side of his forefinger with his thumb. He doesn't say anything for a little while. An immense bittersweetness rises in Ghislain, a powerful feeling he can’t quite pin down or unravel. Still, he doesn’t want to take back what he said.

“Thank you,” Akira says roughly, after a while. “I—thank you.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Ghislain says, as much to himself as to Akira. “It’ll be okay. I just want you to be happy.” His voice cracks, despite his best efforts to keep it steady.

“Oh, my Buri,” Akira says gently, reaching out for Ghislain. Ghislain comes to him, burying his face in Akira’s shoulder. It feels like hours before they pull away.

“I do have good news, though,” Akira says after a while.

“You couldn’t have started with that?” Ghislain jokes weakly. 

“I promise Yuzu I would come to Canada one more time to help him start season, since he is rehabbing from injury,” Akira says. “I will be there twentieth of August.” 

“That’s amazing news,” Ghislain says, brightening up. Only a month and a half to get through after all.

“But I need place to stay,” Akira says playfully. “Maybe you know someone?” He grins cheekily at Ghislain.

“Sure, I might know a guy,” Ghislain says, sticking his tongue out. “Problem is, he only has one bed—“

Akira leans over the table and kisses Ghislain. “Good thing he’s very sexy.”

The rest of their evening is subdued, quietly going through their nightly tasks and curling up together in bed. Akira sticks close to Ghislain as they fall asleep, arm draped across his body. Ghislain wonders if maybe he’ll toss and turn, thinking about Akira’s impending retirement and what it means for them, but instead he’s drifting off in no time at all.

The next morning, Ghislain wakes to find himself in an empty bed. The sun is already pouring through the curtains, and he can hear Akira in the kitchen, humming to himself. He yawns and stretches, luxuriating in the soft sheets. He gazes at the ceiling for a while, listening to Akira’s movements. Cabinet doors open and close, a pan clangs against a pot, water gurgles into a kettle. All the while, Akira is humming, an expansive, indeterminate melody.

It pierces Ghislain’s heart, an arrow of joy and fondness and longing. The words he said last night come back to him. _If you want to retire you should retire. I just want you to be happy._ In some ways, they feel like the truest words he’s ever said. He imagines Akira having more mornings like this one, free to sleep as late as he wants and have a leisurely breakfast. Still doing the work he loves so much, but at a slower pace, one that leaves him more time to study and read. Traveling when he wants to, instead of when he’s summoned. It brings a smile to his face, thinking about it. 

Akira has to retire, it’s obvious to Ghislain. The skating life is a grueling one, hard on them all, even those of them who aren’t competing. Akira’s work is almost as physical as the skaters’, all the exercises and stretches and massages. Ghislain is younger than Akira, but he feels the weight of his years sometimes. He knows someday soon he’ll have to step back, too. 

It touches Ghislain, that Akira thought about waiting so they could see each other more often, but it makes him shudder, too. He hates the idea of an exhausted, harried Akira, forcing himself into something when his heart wasn’t fully in it. His Akira, thriving and relaxed—that’s what Ghislain really wants... 

Ghislain sits up in bed, stunned. All this time he spent worrying about how long-distance dating someone with a different life would affect him, and it turns out that doesn’t matter to him at all. What matters is Akira, the sweet, stubborn man who criticizes Ghislain’s knife skills and rubs his back in bed. Akira the real person, whose life and happiness are just as important to Ghislain as his own. Deep in Ghislain’s heart is a simple, shattering truth: he would have given up much more than just his extra chances to see Akira, if Akira had asked. He _wants_ to give more, to show Akira everything he means to him. He wants that more than anything.

It washes over him like a wave, this immense depth of feeling. After so long holding it back, it’s powerful, a tidal pull. He’s not sure exactly what to do with it yet, or what it all means, except that what he feels for Akira is persistent, constant, the sort of thing you want to last for a long time. Ghislain doesn’t really believe in forever, but—this might make a believer out of him. He hopes that Akira feels this deeply, too. He can’t think of anything better than a long, long time with Akira, the two of them giving to each other, an endless circle of care.

Ghislain’s heart swells and tips, rocked by these realizations. It’s too much, all of a sudden, so intense he can’t bear to stay by himself. He rolls out of bed, yawning and stretching, and shuffles to the kitchen.

Akira stops humming when he hears Ghislain enter. “Oh, sorry. Do I wake you up?”

“No, it’s okay,” Ghislain says. “I’ve been awake for a while, I was just being lazy.” He leans into Akira, kissing his stubbly cheek. “What’s for breakfast?”

That evening, they have drinks with a few of Akira’s friends. Akira introduces him, in English and presumably in Japanese as well, as his boyfriend, and Ghislain is buzzing before he’s even touched a drop of beer. They sit close together on a pair of high stools, Akira’s hand on his knee. The conversation starts in a mix of Japanese and English, but shades into more and more Japanese after a few rounds. Ghislain doesn’t mind, though. It must be tiring for Akira to speak English all the time.

He should speak more Japanese to Akira, he realizes. He takes out his phone and does a few surreptitious searches:

_how long does it take to learn japanese_   
_japanese classes online_   
_japanese conversation class toronto_

Akira jostles his shoulder, leaning over to plant a kiss on his cheek as his friends hoot and holler. Ghislain puts the phone away. There’s enough time for that later.

The last night before he leaves for Toronto, they’re both quiet at dinner, eating slowly. Ghislain doesn’t quite know what to say. There’s too much in his heart and head, nameless feelings swirling. He can’t even begin to express how much this time has meant to him. Everything he wants to say sounds trite and cheesy.

“I’ll miss you,” Ghislain blurts out, eventually.

Akira raises his head, face fondly stricken. “Me too.”

They play a round of Go but their hearts aren’t in it, and eventually they end up sitting on Akira’s couch, arms around each other, staring into the middle distance. Ghislain takes deep breaths and lets them out slowly, savoring Akira’s presence while he still can.

The next morning, Ghislain’s stomach feels like a rock. He picks at breakfast, not hungry for anything. Akira watches him with a tender, concerned gaze.

“I’m fine, it’s just early,” Ghislain tries to say jauntily, but his voice is rough. Akira squeezes his shoulder.

They’re silent on the drive to the airport. It passes by too quickly, and before Ghislain can blink Akira is pulling up to the curb in front of his gate. Without looking or thinking, he throws his arms around Akira and buries his face in Akira’s shoulder. Akira’s arms come up around his back, firm and safe.

“I’ll miss you so much,” Ghislain mumbles into Akira’s shirt.

“Me too,” Akira murmurs. “I’m so happy you come.”

Ghislain wishes they could stay there forever, but he doesn’t want Akira to get in trouble for loitering in the drop-off lane. He gives him a quick, soft kiss, stroking his face briefly afterwards. “See you soon.”

Akira hops out of the car and unloads Ghislain’s luggage. They hug one more time, the hearty, back-slapping kind. Then Akira sighs, getting back in the driver’s seat and waving as he pulls away. Ghislain watches the little silver car until it disappears, then grabs his suitcase and trudges into the airport terminal.

Ghislain finds his gate, buys a coffee and a sandwich. He tries to read, but his mind keeps wandering, imagining Akira driving back to Sendai by himself. He wishes with all his heart he could turn around, run back through the doors, get into the car, and drive off to Sendai with Akira’s hand on his knee. But Ghislain knows life doesn’t work like that. He has to get on the plane. No matter how much his heart aches and his eyes water as the plane takes off, leaving Japan behind—he has to keep moving forward, and hoping the time will pass swiftly until he’s in Akira’s arms again.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Akira comes to Canada, and Brian works some magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We finally made it! The last chapter! Thanks to everyone who's followed the story so far for all your lovely comments.

Ghislain wakes up from an inadvertent nap, five hours into his flight to Canada. He feels better, like sleep has given him some perspective back. A month and a half isn’t that long, truly. It’s less time than they had between their first kiss and their first night together. Ghislain smiles to himself, thinking about the flight back from NHK, how embarrassed he was to be thinking about Akira that way. How far he—they—have come since that moment.

Ghislain does a little math using the back of his drink napkin and the calendar app on his phone. He has a ranking competition in Korea with Jun at the end of September, so maybe he could swing by Japan for a couple days afterwards. The Grand Prix season will be hard, but the Final is in Vancouver, so much closer to Japan than Toronto. And then there’s Japanese Nationals, right on its heels. Ghislain could spend Christmas and New Year’s with Akira in Japan. Maybe, if Yuzu and Brian were willing, he could stay in Japan between Nationals and Worlds, since Worlds is in Japan too…

He needs to find a way to get himself to Japan permanently, Ghislain realizes. If he wants to be with Akira, if he wants to give Akira everything, the next step is to go to Japan and never leave. Thinking about it makes him excited and regretful all at once. He’d miss Canada—the club, Brian, the students, his family. But it would be a great adventure, and he already loves Sendai. Waking up next to Akira every morning in that quiet little house—it would be a dream. 

He can’t do it right away, of course. There are lots of practicalities he’d need to take care of, and he isn’t ready to step back from his own duties quite yet. But in a few years… Like maybe when Yuzu retires, he muses. It’d be a hard wait, but Akira would understand. 

Ghislain feels a little dizzy, abruptly, thinking about all these changes. He closes his eyes again and tries to relax, picturing Akira’s face. Soon he’s drifting off, into a soft and gentle dream.

****

Whatever else may change in Ghislain’s life, the Cricket Club is still the Cricket Club. The green awnings, the wood paneling, the fresh ice. His closest friends, his students. It makes him feel grounded, reassured. He’ll miss it when he has to leave.

Brian is thumbtacking new class schedules to the bulletin board when Ghislain opens the door to the rink. He looks up briefly, flashing a grin Ghislain’s way. “Hey, welcome back.”

“Thanks,” Ghislain says. “Need any help with that?”

“Nah, I’m good,” Brian says. “How was your trip?”

“Really good,” Ghislain says. “You free after work? We could grab a beer and I can tell you all about it.”

Brian puts down his thumbtacks. “You want to talk to me about your trip? Voluntarily?”

“Ah, give it a rest, asshole,” Ghislain says. “Just get a beer with me and let me tell you about my feelings, don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“When you put it like that, how can I refuse?” Brian bends over to pick up another stack of papers.

It’s good to be back teaching as well, Ghislain finds. The vacation was nice, but he needs to work, too. At the end of the day, he’s tired in the best way, the satisfied exhaustion of accomplishment.

Ghislain and Brian go to the same old booth in the Four Shamrocks where they always go when they want to talk. It’s in the back, secluded, out of range of all but the most dedicated bartenders.

“So,” Brian says. “Japan was good?”

“It was amazing,” Ghislain says. “Don’t you dare say ‘I told you so.’”

Brian mimes zipping his lips. “Did you go anywhere else, or just Sendai?”

“Just Sendai,” Ghislain says. “Mostly we were in his neighborhood. We cooked a lot. We walked a lot. The Hanyus had us over.”

Brian looks at Ghislain thoughtfully. “And that was amazing to you?”

“It’s him,” Ghislain says. “Being with him. He’s amazing.”

“I’m so glad. Honestly, I’m really happy for you.”

“There’s more than that,” Ghislain blurts out.

“What do you mean?”

“Did you know Akira wanted to retire this year?”

“Really? So that explains what Yuzu was trying to tell me about needing someone new for competitions this year,” Brian says. “I thought something was getting lost in translation. Akira retiring, huh? That’s a little rough on you.”

“He told me he wanted to retire, but he was thinking about waiting another year since we got back together.” Ghislain laughs at the soft look on Brian’s face. “But I told him, go ahead and retire. He’s been working so hard, he’s so worn out. He can’t keep doing this, he needs a break.” 

“That’s sweet of you,” Brian says. “And you were really okay with that? You weren’t just saying that for him? Because god knows I’ve done that before.”

“It was the strangest thing,” Ghislain says. “All of a sudden, I just knew that he had to retire. And it wasn’t about me, or us, at all—it was about him. What would make him happy. That’s what I wanted more than anything else, was just for him to be happy.”

“Oh, wow,” Brian says thoughtfully.

“The whole plane ride back, I just kept thinking of things I could do,” Ghislain says. “Things I could give him, ways I could show him I care. And there’s just so many things I want to do for him. Like, I have to learn more Japanese, and I think when I retire I have to live in Japan too, sorry.”

Brian’s silent for a long time, long enough that Ghislain is worried he hurt Brian’s feelings. He looks up from his drink. Brian is fiddling with a coaster, turning it end over end in his hand.

“Do you want to retire soon?” Brian asks.

“No, not really,” Ghislain says. “I want to stick it out at least as long as Yuzu does. But when I’m done, I’ll go wherever Akira wants me to go.”

Brian’s silent again. The coaster spins out of his hands and falls onto the table, wrong side up. 

“It sounds to me like you’re in love with Akira,” Brian says. “Am I right?”

A jolt of lightning courses through Ghislain’s body. His feelings are so new, so earth-shattering, he hasn’t wanted to name them. It’s only been a month since he and Akira reconciled. But—there it is, out in the open, and his heart throbs with the truth of it.

“Yes,” Ghislain says, his voice low. “Yeah, I love him.”

A slow, faint grin steals across Brian’s face. He picks up his mostly-empty pint glass and clinks it against Ghislain’s, solemnly. Ghislain clinks back, then takes a long gulp of beer. It’s like water after a hot day.

“Good for you,” Brian says, the roughness in his voice only noticeable to someone who knows him as well as Ghislain. “About damn time.”

“How did you know?” Ghislain asks, sheepish.

“You said that you kept thinking about how to make him happy,” Brian says. “That’s how I feel about Raj.”

“Oh,” Ghislain says. “So that’s just—what being in love is.” 

“Yep,” Brian says. “Welcome to the club.”

“What happens next?” Ghislain asks faintly. He feels out of his depth suddenly. 

“You’ll figure it out when the moment’s right,” Brian says. “In the meantime—enjoy it.”

Ghislain is about to protest. How can he enjoy being apart from Akira, full of these new mysterious feelings, not knowing if Akira feels the same? But considering everything that’s happened so far, maybe Brian’s right. Being here, now, is something to be celebrated.

“I’ll do my best,” Ghislain tells Brian.

****  
Ghislain’s heart pounds as he pulls into the airport parking lot. Akira’s plane is landing in twenty minutes, and Ghislain is going to be waiting for him, right there. He didn’t think he would be nervous—not now, not since things are more settled between them. But as he walks into the terminal, Ghislain’s palms are slick with sweat. 

Since Ghislain returned to Toronto, he and Akira have talked every day, video calls in the evening when Ghislain is going to bed and Akira is just waking up. Their text correspondence has been voluminous. And it’s only made it more and more clear to Ghislain: he loves Akira. The feelings overwhelm him sometimes, seeing Akira’s sleepy face on his phone screen, reading the little messages about his day. But he knows it’s not the right time to say anything. As much as it feels like they’ve been together for ages, this iteration of their relationship is still new and fragile. He might have to wait a while before he can tell Akira how he feels. 

Ghislain sways from foot to foot as travelers pour out of the international arrivals entrance. Finally, Akira appears, dressed in a grey tracksuit and dragging a big black suitcase. He grins when he spots Ghislain, waving vigorously, and speeds up his walk to something between a shuffle and a jog.

Ghislain opens his arms wide in welcome. Akira squeezes him so hard Ghislain’s feet lift off the ground for a moment.

“Hello to you too,” Ghislain says when Akira lets him go. He wants to kiss that happy, travel-creased face, but there are so many people around he feels awkward. Instead, he takes the handle of Akira’s suitcase, pulling it along before he can protest. “Let’s get back, you must be exhausted.”

Akira nods, following Ghislain to the parking lot. In the middle of the traffic island, waiting for the light to turn green, Ghislain suddenly can’t wait any more. He stands on his toes and steals the kiss he wanted earlier. Akira laughs with delight, his nose turning faintly pink. They miss the walk signal and have to wait another turn before they can cross.

It’s barely an hour from the airport to Ghislain’s condo, but Akira falls asleep in the car anyway, snoring gently. Ghislain is filled with a sudden longing to keep driving, as far as he can, so Akira can sleep as long as he likes. He turns into his own driveway reluctantly, shaking Akira’s arm.

“You can sleep more in the house,” Ghislain says, as Akira yawns.

Akira shakes his head. “Need to stay awake for jet lag.”

“Well, we’d better get you some tea, then,” Ghislain says, thinking of the boxes he bought especially for Akira’s visit.

Akira’s grin when they walk into Ghislain’s condo brightens his tired face. Ghislain cleaned all week, throwing out the junk mail and washing the floors and even fixing the leak in the upstairs bathroom faucet that he’s been meaning to fix for months. In this moment, it all pays off.

Akira turns to Ghislain, eyes twinkling.

“What?” Ghislain asks.

“I’m think about, when I come for dinner during Autumn Classic in 2015,” Akira says. “And we drink together. I think maybe, I have a crush on you back then.”

Ghislain squeezes Akira’s hand. “Me too.”

They spend most of the evening on the couch together, eating takeout and watching baseball, sometimes chatting and sometimes silent. Ghislain pokes Akira whenever he starts to doze off. As the evening wears on, they end up with arms around each other and heads pressed together, fond and relaxed. Akira’s head bobs, and Ghislain can feel his own eyelids getting heavy.

“Maybe we better go to sleep for real,” Ghislain says, gently nudging Akira.

They undress and get into bed, sliding under the crisp, cool sheets. Ghislain has missed this: a solid presence next to him, Akira’s soft breath, the way their bodies curve close, wanting to touch even in sleep.

The next morning, it’s never been harder for Ghislain to leave his bed. _We only have a little of this time,_ he thinks as he rolls over, watching Akira struggle from sleep to wakefulness. A piercing sadness goes through him. He wants more and more of this togetherness, not to ration it out but to revel in it. 

Despite the effort to wake up and get going, it’s fun to travel to the Cricket Club with Akira, their bags in the trunk of Ghislain’s car. Walking in together, nodding to the receptionist, Ghislain feels a warm swell of pride.

Brian greets them right outside the rink. “Hey, you two,” he says, voice teasing and warm. “Have a good night?” Ghislain laughs to see Akira actually blush.

“It was very good,” Ghislain says, while Akira is still recovering. “What’s up?”

“Just came out to show Akira where he’ll be working today,” Brian says. “You’ll have one of the little rooms on this hall. Yuzu probably told you, but he wants to see you at eleven-thirty before he skates, and at three after his workouts for the day are done, and he also wants you to do acupuncture instead of the regular guy.”

Ghislain and Akira both laugh. “Of course,” Akira says. 

“Yuzu also told me that you were going to train Ghislain? Does that sound right?” Brian looks first at Akira, then at Ghislain.

“Nobody told me this,” Ghislain says, pretending to be offended.

“Oh, sorry,” Akira says, putting a hand on Ghislain’s shoulder. “Yuzu wants me to show you what I do for him at competitions, so you can do the same.”

Ghislain swallows hard. “I’d be honored,” he says.

Akira nods solemnly. “Sounds good.” Then he leans over and plants a kiss on Ghislain’s astonished lips. “Buri, I will see you later,” he smirks.

Brian cracks up as soon as Akira turns around and starts walking towards the training rooms. “Oh my god, Ghislain, your _face._”

Ghislain shoves Brian in the side. “Shut up.”

“You’re acting like he’s never kissed you before,” Brian says.

“He doesn’t usually do it in front of other people,” Ghislain says. He can feel the flush still hot on his face.

Brian squeezes Ghislain’s shoulder. “It’s cute. Don’t worry.” He frowns. “You don’t mind me saying it’s cute, do you?”

Ghislain shakes his head. “It’s still kind of embarrassing to me, but—that’s how I feel too.”

Brian smiles. “That’s what I like to hear.”

****  
It’s hard for Ghislain to concentrate on training, knowing that Akira is just a few rooms over. He keeps glancing at the clock, willing time to pass.

Everyone else in the rink can tell something’s going on, but only Brian and Yuzu know why. Ghislain catches Brian smiling at him. Yuzu waggles his eyebrows up and down when Ghislain trails off in the middle of a sentence. 

Finally, just as Ghislain is wrapping up his last class of the day, Akira pokes his head into the rink. “Buri, are you ready?”

Ghislain takes his skates off quickly and heads out into the lounge. “Okay, so how does this work?”

“There are few things you always have to do for Yuzu,” Akira says. “I’ll show you.”

They go to the little room where Akira has been working. Akira unpacks and repacks one of Yuzu’s suitcases, showing Ghislain where everything needs to go. Yuzu’s bag is an intricate puzzle of pouches and sacks, something which has always amazed Ghislain, and it impresses him even more to see the order behind it all. Ghislain repacks the suitcase himself twice, once clumsily, the second time a little more smoothly. 

“You get hang of it, after little while,” Akira says. “Once you remember the system.”

Ghislain nods. “What else?”

“Hold his things while he is warming up,” Akira says. “When he is done with earphones, iPod, those things, you guard them.”

“I can do that,” Ghislain says. 

“I have list somewhere, of things Yuzu need with him for competition,” Akira says. “I will send to you, so you have too.”

“Thank you,” Ghislain says.

“You already do this, little bit, but this is most important part,” Akira says.

Ghislain straightens up. “Go ahead.”

“Brian is one of best coaches I ever work with,” Akira says. “But he have lot of things to think about, not just for Yuzu but for everybody. Yuzu needs someone right there always who is think about him first—what he needs, what he feel. This was my job for long time. Now, it’s yours.”

“Really?” It feels like so much to Ghislain. Being in charge of Yuzu’s stuff is one thing. Looking after him in this way, guarding his wellbeing…

“I ask Yuzu if he want this from you,” Akira says. “And he say yes. I think yes, too—you are always looking out for him anyway. We can teach someone else to help Yuzu’s bags, give him massage, that thing, but we can’t teach someone else to love Yuzu. You have—parent’s heart, for him. Just like me. You will know what he needs, it will be easy.”

Ghislain takes this in. He knows Akira’s right—it needs to be someone who already cares, someone who Yuzu trusts. Someone who’s been with him long enough to know what works and what doesn’t. He lets the weight of it settle on his shoulders, and then it isn’t heavy anymore. It’s just another thing he can give, to two of the people who matter the most to him.

“Thanks for letting me look after Yuzu,” Ghislain says. “I’ll try not to screw it up.”

“You won’t,” Akira says, resting a hand on Ghislain’s knee and looking him square in the face. “You never do.”

Ghislain leans over and kisses Akira, because there’s nothing he can say to that.

“And I will help you,” Akira says. “This is other reason it has to be you. I don’t want to talk so much to someone who isn’t you.”

Ghislain laughs so hard he snorts. “Thank you for that.”

“Are you done for day?” Akira asks. “Maybe we go home?”

It’s like an arrow through Ghislain’s heart, hearing Akira call his condo _home._ He loves that Akira is comfortable enough there that the word slips out, the way it would about his house in Sendai. He wants to come back to a home with Akira in it. For one brief, painful moment, two years seems like an eternity.

“Sure, let’s get out of here,” Ghislain says. They leave the club hand in hand, the way they came.  
Ghislain and Akira spend another calm, low-key evening together. Akira cooks this time, a simple dish of chicken and rice that nonetheless tastes delicious. They play Go and Ghislain wins for once. “Beginner’s luck,” Akira jokes, sticking out his tongue at Ghislain. There’s a warmth and a melancholy to their time together, a sense of savoring every tiny drop of sweetness.

In bed that night, Akira holds Ghislain tightly, pressing kisses to the top of his head. The same feeling must be going through both of them, the wish to be together as much as possible while they can. Ghislain’s heart sends out desperate little pulses into the universe. _Please, please, please. Somehow, please bring us together._

Ghislain is oddly nostalgic during classes that week, as if he’s the one leaving in a few days. He keeps looking around at the high wood beams, the names of the world champions, the chipped paint on that one pole where Yuzu fidgets during sessions. He loves this place, he really does.

One afternoon, Ghislain is taking a water break when he hears the creak of the door opening. Akira walks in, head set and walking straight for Brian’s office. “Later,” he mouths to Ghislain as he passes.

Ghislain’s heart jolts. Are they talking about Akira’s retirement? Or something else? His concentration, already teetering on the edge, is shot for the rest of the day. He wants to be a fly on the wall, to hear Brian and Akira talking together.

Akira is quiet on the way home, but Ghislain doesn’t push, even though he’s burning with curiosity. It’s only when they’re settled at the kitchen table, beer in hand, that Ghislain asks, “So what were you talking about with Brian today?”

Akira blushes, pink from chin to hairline. “Oh. I was going to say.”

“What was it?” Ghislain is even more curious now.

“Um. I talk to Brian about—about retirement. How I want to step back, but I don’t want to stop see you so much. This week, I feel so strong, what hard choice this is. So I just tell him everything, because I think, he knows us, maybe he can help. Um, I hope it’s okay.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Ghislain says. It’s oddly touching, that Akira would go to Brian for support. “What did he say?”

“Well.” Akira has a glint in his eye. “He offer me a job.”

“He what?” Ghislain almost chokes on his beer.

“He say, I can work for Cricket, take care of Yuzu while he is here, help out other skaters too. He says they need someone to train new—I don’t know English word. Body trainers, body therapists. That I can teach them like I do at the seminars. So I don’t have to travel, but I can still work if I want.”

Ghislain’s mouth hangs open.

“I think about it a lot,” Akira says. “This, it would be hard but it would also be easy. I will miss Japan a lot, but—I would miss you and the Hanyus more. I already think about, how much time I can see you, how much time I spend here. Canada is a change but—this way I can keep little bit of work, without having to go everywhere, and I can see my most important people. So I can visit Japan, work here. Better than other way around, I think.”

Ghislain tries to gather his thoughts. “So you’ll—take it? Just like that.”

“Well.” Akira looks almost embarrassed now. “Brian say, there is one condition.”

Ghislain frowns. That doesn’t sound like Brian. “What is it?”

“I have to do this,” Akira says. He takes a deep breath, sits up straighter, and reaches for Ghislain’s hand. His eyes fix on Ghislain, gaze deep and fervent. “I—I love you.”

Ghislain can’t breathe for a moment, awestruck and disbelieving. Fireworks whizz through his body, erupting in flashes of joy and light. It can’t be real, that Akira already loves him too. The warmth of Akira’s hand in his anchors him to the present moment, keeping him from floating away altogether.

“I know it’s little bit early,” Akira says. Every word is like a clear bell ringing deep in Ghislain’s heart. “But—it’s true. I love you. I want to be your—your partner. I want to always look after you, and always give to you. I want us to make our home with each other. I want us to keep being together everywhere.”

Tears prickle in Ghislain’s eyes. “I love you too,” he says, firm and bold. The last precipice, the final leap of faith. “I want all these things, too. And more. I want everything.”

The light that shines in Akira’s face is blinding. They reach for each other at the same time, clumsy arms encircling each other frantically. They hold on, half laughing and half crying, like they’ve been washed up on shore together. Survivors of the shipwreck of their old lives, setting foot for the first time on new ground.

Something comes to Ghislain’s mind, as if from very far away. “To get the job you had to tell me you loved me?”

Akira laughs. “Brian ask me if I love you, and I say yes. Then he ask if I’m going to tell you, and I say not yet, it’s too soon, I don’t want to ruin anything. Then he says that if I stay here without tell you, I ruin everything, so if I want to get the job I have to tell you. He says he can tell if I don’t, so I better do it, or else.”

“That meddling motherfucker,” Ghislain says. “That’s what I get for letting him into my private business. I need to buy him dinner.”

Akira laughs again, collapsing back into Ghislain.

“It’s not too early to say it,” Ghislain says. “When I got back from Japan, that’s when I knew I loved you. But I thought I’d wait, the timing didn’t feel right. I knew you wanted to go slow…”

Akira cuts Ghislain off with a kiss. “I only want to go slow because I’m afraid you don’t mean it. I was so worried, that you wouldn’t know how to be better. That you didn’t really want _me_. But now I know, you do.”

“I do,” Ghislain says, kissing Akira back. “I do, I do.”

They sit there at the kitchen table, gazing at each other. Letting it sink it, permeate every inch of them. _My Akira,_ Ghislain thinks. _The love of my life._ It’s such a nice thought that he says it out loud. “Love of my life.”

“Me?” Akira asks, turning pink.

“You.”

Akira nods, as if he’s thinking about something. “You too.”

The warmth of the little room, the warmth of Ghislain’s heart, is so much he almost can’t stand it. He remembers something else, another on the list of the million important things he has to tell Akira. “I was going to move to Japan for you. I still will, if you want to someday.”

Akira startles. “Really?”

“I wanted to give you whatever I could,” Ghislain says. “When Yuzu retires, that’s when I was going to leave. Maybe we can still go back then.” That _we_ is like something heavy and sweet in his mouth.

“We,” Akira says, and Ghislain can tell by his expression that it tastes the same to him. “We can figure out. We have—lot of time.”

“We really do, don’t we?” Ghislain says, wonderingly.

Akira grins at him. “All my time is yours.”

“God, you’re so romantic,” Ghislain says, pretending to grumble. “I can’t keep up.”

“Maybe if you call me in French,” Akira teases.

“Mon cher,” Ghislain says immediately. “Mon petit chou.”

“What is chou?” Akira asks.

“It’s cabbage,” Ghislain says. “It doesn’t sound as romantic that way, sorry.”

“Cabbage is romantic,” Akira says. “You have in hot food, it has good flavor. It’s sust—sustaining. That’s romantic.”

Ghislain can’t believe how much he loves this man, this strange gentle thoughtful determined gorgeous man, the man who’s made his life surprising and new for years now. “Let’s go out to eat,” he says suddenly. “I want to celebrate.”

Akira’s grin swallows his face. “Yeah. Let’s celebrate.”

They pile into Ghislain’s car. Ghislain sends a quick text to Brian, just two words, _thank you._ They drive and drive. Ghislain thinks about the time in Sendai, how much he wanted to get in the car with Akira and just keep going. They could, now. They could go anywhere they wanted.

Eventually, they find themselves at an Italian restaurant, the first thing that looks promising. They tell the waiter it’s Akira’s birthday, and he brings them sparkling wine and a wedge of tiramisu. Ghislain snaps a selfie, both of them tipsy and grinning, eyes shining. He makes it his phone background immediately.

In bed that night, Akira tells Ghislain that he loves him over and over, and Ghislain says it right back, until the air around them is thick with _I love you_. Their love feels like something solid and firm—the bed underneath them, the walls of the room. They built this together, Ghislain understands, and now they can live inside it. He cries again, overwhelmed and half-embarrassed. Akira wipes at his tears with clumsy fingers, his own eyes wet and wondering.

The next day is bright and clear, the humidity finally broken. It’s second nature, now, to walk into the Cricket Club hand in hand. Ghislain’s heart swells as he passes the front desk, imagining he and Akira doing this every day. 

As they enter the lounge, Ghislain spots Yuzu, loitering by an armchair. Yuzu’s face lights up when he sees them, flooding with joy as he looks from their faces to their intertwined hands and back to their faces again. Ghislain can see thoughts flicker in Yuzu’s eyes. 

Finally, Yuzu says gleefully, “Will you both have lunch with me? I want to talk about quad axel.”

Akira looks at Ghislain, as if deferring to him, and suddenly the future flashes through Ghislain’s mind. Joyful work, for the student and the sport that mean so much to them. Running after that same goal, more knowledge, better understanding. And the two of them always, always together. He can’t wait.

“Of course we will,” Ghislain says. “We’d love to.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr at someitems.tumblr.com or on twitter @someitems.


End file.
